


Jensen's Choice

by Zara_Zee



Series: The HellSpawn 'verse [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Dark Romance, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Kink, M/M, Minor Character Death, Organized Crime, Past Drug Addiction, Past Torture, Rough Sex, Smoking, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 14:12:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 44,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7055827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zara_Zee/pseuds/Zara_Zee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven years ago talented pool hustler Jensen Ackles fled LA for his home state of Texas—with a price on his head and HellSpawn MC on his tail.<br/>Now, Jensen’s past has finally caught up with him. His debt has been bought out by the Vice-President of HellSpawn, Jared Padalecki, who expects Jensen to satisfy his dark sexual appetites. But even worse than life as the VP’s beck-and-call boy is the very real possibility that Jensen just might be falling for the sinfully sexy biker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Livejournal's SPN_Meanttobe challenge for the prompt: "An ex-pool hustler must fight her attraction to a sinful, sexy biker when she's kidnapped by the Dragons MC and sold to the club's Vice-President."
> 
> _For the purposes of a dark romance, I’ve used the tag 'dubious consent', however it should be noted that in the beginning, Jared has all the power and Jensen’s consent is definitely coerced. In the real world, I would classify that as rape. On the whole many unhealthy attitudes to consent are conveyed here._
> 
> The very talented [Amberdreams](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Amberdreams/pseuds/Amberdreams/) produced the art for this story. Her art post can be found [HERE](http://amberdreams.livejournal.com/415449.html)

 

The bar was dark and smoky and smelled like heaven; spilled beer, tobacco, salty fried food and the rich musky scent of blue collar men at the sweaty end of a long working day.

Jensen made his way to where the barkeep was wiping down the ring-stained mahogany bar top with a grimy grey rag.

“Hi,” Jensen said brightly. “Do you have any craft beer?”

The barkeep paused and looked Jensen up and down, taking in the Nantucket red crew-neck sweater, tan chinos, and brown top-siders with orange and green laces.

“No,” he said flatly.

Jensen grinned, fully aware that he looked like he’d just stepped out of an Abercrombie and Fitch catalogue and he really _didn’t_ fit in.

“Okay,” he got out his brown leather wallet, flipping it open and making sure the wad of cash and his black Amex were visible. “Just give me whatever you’ve got on tap.”

Jensen smiled and nodded at the flannel-shirt-and-denim clad man sitting on the bar stool beside where he was standing. The man glared briefly before hunching back over his scotch, something from below the bottom shelf if the scent of rotten eggs and anti-freeze was anything to go by.

“Here,” the barkeep smacked a glass of amber liquid down in front of Jensen.

“Thanks!” Jensen smiled again and handed the barkeep a ten dollar bill with a flourish. “Keep the change.”

He winked and took a big gulp of the beer, coughing and choking and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, before grimacing and pulling a face.

“Well,” he said, “it’s not PBR, but it’s drinkable.”

A quick check suggested that most of the people in the joint had noticed him now, so Jensen sauntered over to the pool tables, ignoring the few mutters of ‘fucking fag’ he heard uttered in his wake.

There was a rotating group of seven young guys playing on the bar’s two pool tables and Jensen watched them with wide eyes, clapping and cheering the good shots and buying the occasional round of drinks for them.

“You wanna play?” one of the guys asked finally.

“Really?” Jensen rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’d love to. I gotta warn you though, I’m pretty good. Me and my little sister used to play all the time on our Grandpa’s table and I always used to beat her.”

Several of the guys shared a sly, calculating look over Jensen’s head. Jensen affected not noticing and sipped innocently at his beer.

When someone handed him a cue he beamed and then proceeded to make all the typical rookie errors. He gripped the cue too tightly. He didn’t chalk it. He bent too low over the cue stick, turning parallel to it so that he couldn’t line up his shots accurately. He slipped a couple of times trying to hit the cue ball and he missed the solid balls over and over again. Understandably, he lost.

“Oh man,” he said, throwing his hands up to pull at his hair. “I dunno what just happened! I’m usually _good_.”

The guy he’d been playing—Matt—smiled condescendingly. “Against your little sister, sure. But this is the big leagues now.”

Somehow, Jensen managed not to laugh. He chewed at his bottom lip.  “Let’s play again!”

Matt pursed his lips and looked skeptical.

Jensen got his wallet out before Matt could turn him down. “C’mon,” he said, “let’s put some money on it!” He took a fifty dollar bill out of his wallet and waved it under Matt’s nose. Matt’s eyes widened at the sight of Jensen’s fat, bill-stuffed wallet.

Jensen watched as he wavered and then sighed. “Okay. Why not?”

Jensen lost the next game, but won the one after--just. He crowed and was really obnoxious about it, taunting Matt and making a show of putting the money in his wallet and draining the last of his beer as if he was getting ready to leave.

Matt scowled. “You got lucky. I want a chance to win my money back!

“Okay,” Jensen said, “How about double or nothing?” He placed one hundred on the edge of the pool table. He could practically see the dollar signs in Matt’s eyes as he placed his own cash on top of Jensen’s.

Jensen won. Just.

Matt demanded a rematch and then stomped off to the ATM to get more cash out.

“Double or nothing again!” he said, putting $200.00 down on the edge of the table.

Jensen endeavoured to look worried. He chewed on his bottom lip and then nodded. “Okay,” he put down his own money and then looked up from beneath his eyelashes. “Can I break this time?”

“Sure,” said Matt.

Jensen straightened up, loosened his grip on the cue and changed his stance. He set about making the eight on the break, his best play, and something very few people could do.

Matt’s face became whiter and whiter as the game progressed. When the black ball finally rolled into a corner pocket, Matt shook himself out of his stupor.

“You fucking hustled me!” his voice was thick with rage.

Jensen shrugged. “Hey, I said I was good. Not my fault you didn’t believe me,” he reached for the cash and stiffened when Matt grabbed his wrist.

“You’re not taking that! You _cheated_ , you fucking fag!”

Jensen turned, his eyes dark and intense, his teeth clenched and his lips pressed together. “Get your hand off me,” his voice was pitched far lower than it had been the entire time he’d been in the bar.

Matt hesitated. He glanced at his buddies and seemed to gain courage. “Make me,” he said.

Jensen’s lips twitched with cruel glee and without another word he twisted and spun, yanking Matt’s arm up behind his back and then smashing the boy’s head down onto the edge of the pool table, once, twice, and someone tried to grab him from behind. He drove his elbow backwards and connected with a soft gut, and then he slammed his head back and hit a face with a satisfying crack.

Jensen was at the very center of the ecstasy of violence that followed, punching, kicking, head-butting; he picked up a cue stick and wielded it like a weapon…which in his capable hands it was.

“Are we having fun yet, boys?” he yelled, as he took another guy’s legs out from under him.

The cock of a shot gun stilled him.

Jensen grinned. Place like this? Should’ve known the barkeep had a shot gun behind the counter.

“Get out,” said the barkeep.

“Really?” Jensen pouted. “But I was just starting to have a good time.”

Beside Jensen, a would-be assailant tried to take advantage of his distraction. Jensen pulled out his flick knife before the guy had even finished taking a step.

“I once saw somebody get a Columbian neck tie,” he mused. “Always wanted to try it.”

Nobody moved.

During the fight, Jensen had pushed up the sleeves of his sweater and one of his pool buddies was now staring at the demonic skulls, hellfire and dripping blood on his forearms.

“See something you like?” Jensen challenged.

The guy nodded, but wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Jensen snorted and pulled off his sweater, revealing a white wife-beater and his extensive collection of tattoos.

The guy closest to Jensen gasped. He was staring at a small tattoo worked into the sleeve on Jensen’s shoulder; one that he really should’ve had inked over years ago.

The guy saw Jensen watching him and took a step back, holding his hands up in surrender. “Hey man,” he said. “We don’t want trouble with HellSpawn.”

There was an up-swell of muttering.

“I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, Sir,” the barkeep said apologetically.

Jensen sighed. “Sure. Okay. You guys are no fun anyway.”

The bar patrons parted for him as he walked to the door, flick knife still in hand, just in case.  It was a very different walk to the delicate, clenched-ass mince he’d affected when he walked in; _this_ was his natural way of moving. Loose-limbed and powerfully careless, it revealed the predator.

Back in his black BMW, Jensen tossed his flick knife into the glove box and pulled out a packet of Marlboro Reds, lighting up and sucking in a lungful of strong, creamy smoke.

He switched on the engine and _You shook me all night long_ blasted from his speakers, loud enough to shake the dashboard.

Jensen nodded along. What a _rush_ it was to hustle a bunch of bigoted douchebags and then get into a bar fight with them. Man, he hadn’t had this much fun in _years_.

He glanced at the clock and swore under his breath. Sticking his cigarette between his lips he put the car into drive and sped from the parking lot, gravel spitting up from his tires.

\--

Jensen pushed open the chrome and frosted glass door into Dr Samantha Ferris’s consulting suites. The receptionist, a pretty, petite blonde girl with big blue eyes and a southern drawl, batted her eyelashes at him. 

“Nice to see you again, Mr Ackles.”

Jensen gave her his most charming smile. “Always a pleasure to see your pretty face, Sweetheart.”

She was barking up the wrong tree, but it never hurt to be nice to people who could be useful.

The door into Sam’s office opened and Dr Ferris stood in the opening with her arms folded and a scowl on her face.

“You’re late,” she said.

“Sorry,” he said, pulling an ‘uh oh’ face at the receptionist and then winking, before breezing past Sam and into her office. He threw himself down into one of her bucket chairs and waited while she closed the door and crossed to sit in the one beside him.

“Our appointment time was 5.30pm,” she said. “It’s now five to six. By rights I should ask you to reschedule.”

Jensen shrugged as if he didn’t care. And on the one hand he didn’t. On the other hand his dad would give him hell if Dr Ferris reported that he’d missed an appointment.

Jensen looked up at her from underneath his eyelashes and found her looking at him closely. Jensen considered his appearance for a moment, knew his hair was tousled from the bar fight; knew his eyes were bright with the rush of the hustle; knew the conclusion she would reach.

“Have you been using?” Dr Ferris’s voice was shaded with suspicion.

“No.”

She inclined her head. “I don’t believe you.”

“This is my session, right? If I’m not gonna be honest, why I am here?”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Don’t quote the therapy handbook at me. I wrote it. And we both know you’re here because you don’t want your daddy to have you committed again.”

Jensen tipped his head back and then sighed dramatically. “Fine. You want me to pee in a cup?”

Sam looked at him steadily and then told him that he knew where the cups were.

Jensen stood up with another sigh and then strolled into her ensuite bathroom, leaving the door wide open. He took a specimen cup from the shelf and half-filled it, put a cap on it, washed his hands and then strolled back out, dumping the cup on Sam’s desk on the way past.

“Happy?” he demanded.

“I’ll let you know when I get the results. In the meantime, would you like to talk about your exhibitionist tendencies?” 

Jensen laughed, genuinely. “Well I ain’t gonna deny that I’ve got those, but you ain’t even on my radar, Darlin’. You’re also my doctor. I figure watching me pee into a cup is all part of your gig.”

As usual, he got absolutely no reaction, save for a small hmm, and a scribbled note. “Okay. Let’s move on to why you were late this afternoon.”

Jensen began to spin his chair on its castors, just a little; toward Sam, toward the fake palm tree in the copper plant pot, toward Sam.

“I just lost track of time. That’s all.”

“I see. And what were you doing that caused you to lose track of time?”

Jensen rubbed at the back of his neck.  “I was playing pool.”

Sam’s trademark look of concern ratcheted up a notch. “Jensen, you know you’re not allowed to play pool. You’re not even allowed in any location where there’s a pool table. What were you thinking?”

“What was I thinking?” Jensen stopped spinning. He slouched in his seat, his legs splayed. “I was thinking that I was bored fucking shitless and I wanted to have a little fun.”

“The pool scene is a huge trigger for you,” Sam said. “Why not find some other way to have fun?”

Jensen snorted.

“Or maybe you could even find something more fulfilling than mere fun. Have you given any more thought to going back to college?”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “My dad put you up to that?”

“He worries.”

Jensen huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. About the Ackles name. About what effect my reputation’s gonna have on his.”

At least Sam had the good grace not to argue the point. She was big on honesty, after all.

“Then surely,” she said, “with all the resources at your disposal, you should be able to find some ‘fun’ that doesn’t involve a pool hall.”

“It was a dive bar.”

Sam shook her head. “Like those are any better. What about the tennis? Are you still playing tennis?”

“Yeah. Every Monday. With Ryan, the son of Dad’s CFO,” he waited a beat. “I fucking hate tennis. And Ryan?” Jensen got to his feet and began to pace. “Ryan is deeper in the closet than Father Mahoney down at St Pat’s. I managed to talk him into letting me give him a blow job,” Jensen shook his head. “It was like having a dead fish in my mouth. A really tiny one. So I said to him, I said, just…grab my head and fuck my face like you mean it, and you know what he did? He pulled out and he pulled me to my feet and he hugged me. He hugged me, Sam! And he promised to ‘help me through my issues’,” Jensen’s voice rose indignantly.

“How do you feel about that?” Sam asked.

“Really?” Jensen stopped pacing and raised his eyebrows. “My look of horror and outrage doesn’t clue you in to that answer?”

Sam simply sat patiently and waited.

Jensen leaned back against her desk and folded his arms. “We’ve all got issues. Maybe I’ve got more than my fair share. But liking sex? Ain’t one of ‘em.”

“Liking _rough_ sex?”

“Nothing wrong with rough sex, so long as everybody consents.”

“Which Ryan clearly didn’t.”

“Huh,” Jensen frowned. “Yeah. I guess,” he went and sat back down next to Sam. “Anyway, we’re still playing tennis, but uh, he’s acting like I need to be coaxed over some kind of sexual trauma,” Jensen shook his head. “I dunno what my dad’s been telling people about me.”

“Are you and Ryan in a relationship?”

“Hell no. He’s engaged to Savannah Scott-Wright.”

“So you’re having an affair?”

Jensen frowned. “No. We’re fucking around in the locker room after tennis.”

Sam shook her head. “Okay. I think I understand. You feel as if every aspect of your life is currently unsatisfying?”

Jensen nodded.

“And you’re looking to fill that void?”

“Yeah.”

“With something that isn’t cocaine.”

“Exactly. I needed a rush.”

Sam sighed. “You’ve been clean seven years, even got a bronze medallion in your wallet to mark five years sober. But you’re still driven by the same needs and you still don’t seem interested in changing; in developing a healthier way of living.”

Jensen shrugged. “I just want to be me. And you know what? I don’t have a problem with me. It’s everyone else who has the problem.”

Sam pursed her lips and then looked up at the clock. “Our time’s up. I’ll see you again next week. Please be on time.”

Jensen escaped gratefully out to the car. He sat on the hood in the parking lot and chain-smoked half a dozen cigarettes before climbing behind the wheel and heading home.

His father’s Mercedes was already in the garage. Jensen put his hand on the hood and the engine was cool.

Shit.

Friday nights were ‘family dinner’ night—but only when Warren Mason Ackles could make it. If he was late, well, that was just business. If Jensen was late, a lecture on family values was almost a foregone conclusion.

Jensen typed his pin into the car key safe and then locked his key inside it.

He keyed his entry code into the pad beside the door and then opened it with his swipe card.

He took his shoes off and then tiptoed toward the stairs, hoping he might make it upstairs before he attracted anyone’s attention.

“Mr Jensen, Sir?”

No matter how many times he told them to just call him Jensen, the staff couldn’t seem to lose either the _Mr_ or the _Sir_. Or maybe they’d been told not to.

Jensen pasted on a smile and turned. “Yes, Maria?”

“Your parents are waiting for you in the semi-formal dining room.”

Fan _fucking_ tastic.

“Thank you.” He met her eyes and smiled and Maria blushed and ducked her head.

Jensen walked down the long corridor, past the austere portraits of his father, his grandfather, his great-grandfather and so on, his socked–feet gliding across the highly polished floorboards. He stopped beside the requisite room, took a deep breath and then pushed the door open.

The polite tinkle of silverware greeted his entry.

“Jensen,” his father said after a moment. “So good of you to join us at last.”

“Sorry. My appointment with Dr Ferris ran over time.”

His father peered at him over the top of his spectacles. “Being particularly difficult, were you?”

“You know me,” Jensen shrugged expansively. The place where he usually sat had been cleared of tableware. “You want me to get myself a plate?”

“No, Dear,” his mom said. “We had Lucy make you up a plate to keep warm in the oven. You can wash up and then go and eat in the kitchen.”

Jensen managed not to fist pump until he got back out into the hallway. “Yes!”

Maria, who was hovering in the hallway, tittered and Jensen winked at her and then bounded up the stairs, to his bedroom. He changed into a ratty pair of old jeans and a Led Zeppelin tee-shirt and then went and washed his hands and splashed water on his face.

Whenever possible, Jensen ate in the kitchen. In the kitchen, he didn’t have to worry about his posture, and keeping his elbows off the table, and a million and one other _etiquette_ things that he didn’t give two shits about. It was comfortable and homelike and Lucia wasn’t actually old enough to be his mother, but he sure wished his mom was more like her.

“¡Buenas noches, Lucia!”

“Sit, sit,” Lucia said, plucking up a pair of oven mitts and taking a tin-foil covered plate out of the oven.

“¿Qué hay para cenar esta noche?”

“Chicken and dumplings,” Lucia put the now uncovered plate in front of him, along with cutlery.

“Gracias.”

Lucia smiled. “Enough practice now, I want to talk. Is everything okay?”

Jensen picked up his fork and dug into the food. “Eh. You know. As much as it ever is. Did he pitch much of a fit that I was late?”

Lucia wrinkled her nose. “Oh boy. He was not happy.”

They chatted a little more while Jensen ate, mostly about her little boy, Matias, who was back home in Santiago with her sister and her family.

Maria joined them as Jensen was mopping up the last of his sauce with a piece of bread.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but your parents want you to join them in the drawing room when you’re finished.”

Jensen pushed his plate out of the way and then clunked his forehead against the wooden table top with a groan. “Fuck my life!”

Lucia smacked the back of his head.  “I know Mr Ackles can be a difficult man,” she said, “but he puts the roof over your head, the food in your belly. You owe him some respect.”

Jensen turned his head. “Well maybe if he didn’t forbid me from doing any of the things that actually interest me, he wouldn’t have to!”

“Why don’t you just leave then?” Maria said.

Jensen snorted.  “Tried that. Didn’t work out so good for me.”

Lucia put a hand to his arm. “You were eighteen, _Papito_. You’re twenty-eight now.”

Jensen wrinkled his nose. “Yeah. And I’m still paying for the mistakes I made back then.

He got up from the table and stretched. “Gracias por la cena.”

Lucia patted his cheek and Jensen took his leave, making his way down to the drawing room where he found his mother working on her tapestry and his father smoking a Cuban cigar and drinking Cognac from a crystal brandy-balloon.

“Cotillion tomorrow night,” Jensen’s father said, glancing up at Jensen and eyeing his outfit with distain.  

Jensen frowned. “Really? That’s tomorrow?”

His father pursed his lips. “I hope you haven’t forgotten that you’re escorting Mary Beth Ellison.”

No, Jensen hadn’t forgotten. He just wasn’t looking forward to it. Mary Beth was all right. Quiet, shy and harmless. But the whole Texas Country Club scene made his skin crawl.

“You’d make a good match,” his father mused. “Her father’s in oilfield equipment.”

Right, Jensen thought sarcastically, because what your daddy did was the most important factor in any relationship.

“You haven’t forgotten that I’m _gay_ , have you?”

His father swirled his cognac around in its glass. “Nonsense, Jensen,” he said. “I know you went through a phase when you started college in LA, but that’s all behind you now. It’s time to stop with all that nonsense and start getting serious about a wife.”

Jensen’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me? You don’t just stop being gay. It’s not something you _do_ , it’s something you _are_.”

“You’re not… _that_ ,” his father said, nose wrinkling with disgust. “No son of mine is going to be a pervert! Maybe you were exposed to unnatural things when you were in LA, but--”

Jensen laughed; harsh and ugly. “I figured out for sure that I was gay when I was fourteen and I blew Toby Morrison in the locker room after baseball practice.”

“Don’t be vulgar, Dear,” said his mother, her hand fluttering to the locket at her chest.

“It’s over,” Jensen’s father said. “As of now. There will be no more degrading filth. You’ll court a nice girl, like Mary Beth, you’ll marry and you’ll give us grandchildren. Is that clear?”

Jensen stared at his father and then he turned on his heel and walked out of the room.  

\--

“You might wanna slow down, Son,” said Jensen’s buddy Chris.

Jensen was sitting with Chris Kane and Chris’s boyfriend Steve Carlson at a small round table right in front of the stage at The Midnight Rebels Saloon.

After his father’s proclamation, Jensen had gone upstairs to his closet (he’d had a smaller _bedroom_ when he’d been living in LA) and picked up the _Go Now_ bag, that it was his habit to keep packed. He shoved his feet into a pair of black combat boots, grabbed his leather jacket and slung his duffel bag over his shoulder before hurrying out to the garage.

Keys. BMW. He clicked the remote to open the garage and then reversed out onto the driveway, despite his father’s preference that he use the revolving disk to turn the car around.

Chris and Steve hadn’t been home; hardly unusual for a Friday night, so Jensen had picked their lock and let himself in, playing Call of Duty on the sofa until he’d fallen asleep.

He’d woken the next morning about eleven to the smell of bacon and coffee. Someone had put a blue woollen blanket over him during the night and Jensen wrapped it around his shoulders when he went out into the kitchen.

“Hey.”

Chris turned around, spatula in hand.

“Uh oh,” Chris said. “You got that look.”

Jensen frowned. “What look?”

“The one you got right before you lit out for California, months before college was due to start.”

Jensen leaned against the counter. “He wants me to get married.”

Chris raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t even know you had a boyfriend.”

Jensen sighed. “You’ve heard him on the topic of gay people being allowed to marry—or as he likes to call it ‘the sick and sinful gay agenda of normalizing degradation.’ He wants me to marry a woman. Possibly Mary Beth Ellison.”

Chris’s response was satisfyingly lurid.

He and Steve had a gig that night, but they said that Jensen was welcome to come with them.

Jensen spent the afternoon on Chris and Steve’s sofa, smoking his way steadily through two packets of cigarettes and drinking his way through a six pack-and-a-half of Bud.  

Mid-afternoon he switched his cell phone back on and wrinkled his nose at all the missed calls from a ‘private number’ that he’d received.  That’d be his dad. Not personally, of course. Probably his PA. Fuck him. Jensen took another swig of beer. And then he pulled the sim card out of his phone and broke it in half. He reached into his duffel bag and rummaged around until he found the envelope with the pre-paid sim card. He inserted the card and gave Chris his new number.

When it was time for Chris and Steve to head out to The Midnight Rebels Saloon for their gig, Jensen was nicely buzzed. Chris didn’t want him to drive, but there wasn’t enough room for him in the van with all their gear and Jensen didn’t actually care if he crashed the beamer.

“I promise I won’t kill anyone,” he said. “I’ve driven way more fucked up than this before.”

Chris glared and shook his head, but he didn’t try to stop Jensen from throwing his duffel bag into the trunk of his car and sliding behind the wheel.

Chris raised an eyebrow. “You’re not sticking around?”

Jensen shrugged. “Sooner or later he’s gonna send someone looking for me. And yours is the first place they’re gonna look.”

Every line on Chris’s face was etched with concern. “You make sure you say good-bye before you take off,” he pointed an accusing finger at Jensen.

Jensen promised that he would, but he made that promise last time, and then didn’t tell his best friend when he took off.

While Chris and Steve set up for their gig, Jensen sat at the bar and did Tequila shots.

“I like these bar stools,” he told the barkeep. “They’re like saddles. They’re awesome.”

He moved to the table reserved for the music act once the guys were set up and continued to drink, prompting Chris’s suggestion that he slow down.   

Truthfully, Jensen could drink a lot before it had much of an effect, but he was planning on driving and a DUI charge would be annoying, so he switched to soda.

Chris and Steve went up on stage and Jensen sat, feeling calmer and less restless than he’d felt in years. Maybe Maria was right. Maybe what he’d needed all along was to get out there on his own again. Maybe he could make it work this time.

Chris and Steve’s music was loud raucous country, and Jensen was deep in his own head, trying to decide what his next move should be. He didn’t notice the men in the Hellspawn MC cuts until they were sitting at his table, one on either side of him.

“Hey, Dean,” said the one on his right, a big bald guy, wearing a black bandana.

Oh shit.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen smiled tightly putting on the most hoighty toighty son-of-an-oil-baron voice he could manage. “I think you’ve got me confused with someone else.  My name is Jensen. Jensen Ackles. Of Ackles Oil.”

The men both looked supremely unimpressed. Baldy reached into the inside pocket of his cut and pulled out a folded piece of letter-sized paper. He unfolded it and placed it on the table in front of Jensen.

Jensen looked down at it.

_Oh, he was fucked._

“Wow,” he said. “That guy could be my twin. Why does your club want him?”

The men looked at each other and then the guy on the left grabbed hold of Jensen and Baldy pulled up the sleeve of his tee-shirt to reveal the tattoo of the red-eyed hellhound with blood dripping from its bared teeth and the words _HellSpawn MC_ printed in a curve underneath.

“You wanna explain this, _Jensen_?” he said.

Jensen sighed. “Okay, fine. You got me. But my name really is Jensen Ackles.”

“I don’t give a fuck if your name’s Ronald McDonald,’ said Baldy. “The Beast sent us to pick you up and drive you down to LA and that’s what we’re gonna do.”

Jensen snorted.

“You gonna come quietly?” asked Baldy.

“Why would I wanna do that?”

The other guy leaned in close. “Because right now you’re the only one who’s fucked. You really wanna drag your buddies,” he nodded toward the stage, “into this?”

No, Jensen really didn’t.  He stood with a sigh and the bikers both tensed.

“Relax. This is me going quietly.”

Jensen pulled his leather jacket off the back of the chair and put it on. “Let’s go.”

The men rose and Jensen sketched Chris a salute and then turned his back and walked out of the bar, flanked by the bikers.

Outside, were two Harley Davidson Dyna Super Glides. Jensen lifted an eyebrow.

“Well that ain’t gonna work. You can’t expect the guy you’re kidnapping to ride bitch.”

“We’re just going to the clubrooms,” said Baldy. “We’ll get a different ride there.”

“Nah,” Jensen reached into his jacket pocket. The bikers both reached behind them, but before they could draw, Jensen threw his car keys at Baldy. “We’ll take the beamer,” he said.

Baldy looked suspiciously at the keys and then at Jensen. “You boost this? You hopin’ to get us picked up by the cops?”

“Jensen _Ackles_ ,” Jensen repeated slowly. “ _Ackles_ Oil. My daddy’s a billionaire.”

The bikers stared at him, slack-mouthed.

Jensen sighed. “If you don’t believe it’s mine and I’m me, my licence and registration are in the glove box.”

 Baldy unlocked the car and opened the glove box. “Well fuck,” he said, after examining the documents, “Pellegrino ain’t gonna like this.”

\--

They’d offered him cocaine.

Jensen hadn’t accepted it and he still wasn’t sure why. This was probably the last day of his life, so what did it really matter? Except that he’d cleaned up his act; he’d gotten this far and he kind of wanted to see it through to the end. So to speak.

They also hadn’t tied him up or anything. They seemed to believe they could rely on him not running as a matter of honor, which was hilarious. Jensen was first and foremost a hustler. He might’ve been an MC prospect, but only because the club’s sergeant-at-arms, Christopher Heyerdahl, had liked his hustling skills and his talent for violence. Combining the two skill sets had made him an excellent interrogator and for a while, Jensen had thrilled in the role. Then he’d been ordered to do some things he hadn’t been comfortable with, and it had all gone downhill from there.  

Jensen was far more concerned with his life than with his honor, but he wasn’t making a run for it for two reasons. Firstly, he didn’t want the Club to go after Chris and Steve; and they would if Jensen ran. And secondly, Club President Mark Pellegrino hadn’t known that Jensen came from money. The HellSpawn Original Charter in LA had known him as Dean Winchester, an alias he’d been using back then, and they’d believed he was a talented hustler who’d worked his way up from the streets.

Dean Winchester wouldn’t be able to give back the money he’d stolen from the Club, but Jensen Ackles could. He was hoping he could give them back their money and convince Pellegrino that it would be best to avoid the heat that killing the son of a billionaire would bring. And okay, maybe Pellegrino would want to punish him. So long as he didn’t die, Jensen figured he could handle that.

In the meantime, Jensen sat in the back of his own BMW, one arm slung across the back of the bench seat, slowly chain-smoking his way through his second packet of Marlboro Reds. He’d even slept a little.

They’d hit a truckstop just outside of Tuscon and Jensen had shouted them all a hot breakfast, before going to hit the head.

As Jensen had been expecting, Baldy had accosted him in the rest room and demanded a blow job. The biker had obviously been expecting fear and horror rather than the eager enthusiasm he actually got from Jensen, and he’d pushed Jensen away and called him a freak.

Jensen had laughed. “Didn’t do your homework properly, did you Sweetheart? HeyDay and The Beast liked my cock sucking skills as much as they liked my pool skills and my interrogation skills,” he licked his lips. “I like having a dick in my mouth,” he cocked his head. “You sure you’re not up for it?”

“Fuck you,” Baldy said, and stomped out of the restroom.

In Jensen’s experience, most bikers were hyper masculine and even though many of them weren’t above taking pleasure where they could in prison, the sex in those circumstances was more often about dominance and establishing hierarchy than anything else and when it wasn’t, most of them had a ‘what happens in prison, stays in prison’ attitude.

Mark ‘The Beast’ Pellegrino was an exception to that rule. He was openly bisexual and happily welcomed gay or bi members. Some bikers—even some of the HellSpawn members in other charters—didn’t like that about him, but Pellegrino was a genuinely dangerous and frightening man. He’d made HellSpawn the most powerful and successful one percenter MC in the country and no one would ever dare say anything about his sexuality to his face. They wouldn’t even say anything behind his back, in case it got back to him.

Jensen lit another cigarette and the other guy—whose name was Franky—groaned.

“What?” said Jensen. “I’ve got the windows rolled down.”

“I’m gonna die of lung cancer before we get to the LA clubhouse,” Franky grumbled.

“We’ll be there in about twenty minutes,” Baldy (whose name was actually Lewis, but Jensen thought Baldy suited him better) said.

Jensen started to get nervous again.

Driving through the front gates of MorningStar Motors brought back a lot of memories for Jensen, not all of them bad. He’d had some good times here. The Club partied hard and Jensen had drunk a lot, done a lot of drugs, and had a lot of debauched sex right here in the club rooms. Some of the best nights of his life had happened right here. As well as some of the worst. Being back again was an emotional roller coaster and as Jensen got out of the car, he swallowed against his need to ask for the cocaine he’d turned down earlier.

They were waiting for him in the Chapel: Mark ‘The Beast’ Pellegrino, Chris ‘HeyDay’ Heyerdahl, Mark ‘Rolly’ Rolston, Mark ‘Crossroads’ Sheppard, Freddy ‘Yellow Eyes’ Lehne and at Pellegrino’s right hand, wearing the VP patch, some young, smokin’ hot guy who Jensen didn’t recognize.

“Dean Winchester,” said Pellegrino. And then he gave a loopy grin and shrugged. “Or I guess I should say Jensen Ackles. And I’ve gotta say that was a surprise and not much surprises me anymore,” he pointed a finger at Jensen. “Back then, nothing about you suggested you were anything more than a punk-ass street kid with a talent for pool and sucking cock,” Pellegrino inclined his head. “Actually, nothing about you suggests you’re anything more than that now.”

Jensen pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and tossed it on the table.

“Ooh, a black Amex,” Pellegrino gave an over-the-top shiver. “I’m not so impressed by the $400 in cash; one hustle could earn you that back in the day. So the question is…are you really who you say you are, or have you graduated to long cons?”

“I’m really Jensen Ackles. Sole heir to the Ackles Oil fortune and black sheep of the family. Look, I’m sorry about the money I stole, okay? I was young. I panicked. I can pay it back.”

Pellegrino stared at him. “It isn’t about the money. It’s about the disrespect. You gotta be punished for that,” he inclined his head. “By rights, I should have you killed.”

Jensen’s heart started to beat way too fast.

The young VP leaned in and whispered something in Pellegrino’s ear. Pellegrino’s grin became wolfish and he nodded. “Well that’s definitely a win/win. Gotta say the thought of that fine ass getting eaten by maggots wasn’t really appealing to me.” He looked back up at Jensen. “Jensen, I’d like you to meet my VP, Jared Padalecki.”

Jensen nodded. “What happened to JD?”

A flash of sorrow crossed Jared’s face.

“He died,” Pellegrino said. “Anyway, Jared here has kindly offered to take on responsibility for your debt and your punishment. You get what you deserve and Jared gets a brand new fuck toy,” Pellegrino grinned brightly. “Let’s hope you last a little longer than the last few. Jared has a tendency to wear his toys out real quick.”

Jensen swallowed.

Jared was huge, but he had kind eyes and Jensen was having a little trouble imagining him being truly cruel. He even had fucking dimples. He was certainly capable of manhandling Jensen; of overpowering him physically, and Jensen honestly hoped he would do that, and then follow through with a hard, rough fucking. If the man was proportional… Holy fuck. Jensen was getting hard just thinking about it. If Pellegrino thought rough sex with a hot guy like Jared would be some sort of punishment for Jensen, then he really didn’t know Jensen very well at all.

Jensen watched as all six foot four of Jared stood, stretched and then strode purposefully toward him. Jeans. White tee-shirt. Leather cut. Tattooed sleeves. Shoulder length brown hair.

“You gonna fight me on this?” Jared asked and Jensen could hear a faint Texan twang in his voice.

Jensen shook his head. This giant puppy would be child’s play to manipulate.

Jared grinned, his eyes suddenly glinting darkly.

“You know how to ride bitch?”

Jensen nodded.

“Good. We’re gonna go back to my place and get to know each other,” Jared leaned in close. “We’re gonna get to know each other real well.”

Jensen swallowed again at the hint of genuine darkness in Jared’s voice. Where had the puppy dog gone?

Jared took hold of Jensen’s arm and began to pull him toward the exit. Jensen let him. Just as they reached the door, Pellegrino called out.

“Oh, Jared?”

Jared turned.

“I’ll stop by tomorrow to see how you’re doing. I’ll expect to see bruises on him.”

Jared’s answering smile was frightening in its ferocity. “Oh, you can count on it,” he said.

A feeling that Jensen was all too familiar with began to settle in the pit of his stomach; he was beginning to realize that, once again, he was in way, way over his head.


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as they were outside, Jared spun Jensen around and shoved him up hard against the side of the building, pinning his wrists to the wall. He shoved a knee in between Jensen’s thighs and then leaned in close, his pupils large and dark.

Jared met Jensen’s eyes searchingly and apparently found whatever he was looking for because he smiled— _fucking dimples_ —and then his lips crashed into Jensen’s, claiming his mouth in a hard, demanding kiss. Jensen parted his lips and widened his stance, welcoming Jared’s insistent tongue into his mouth and groaning as the biker’s knee pressed up against his balls. Jensen’s dick began to swell, pressing against his zipper, and when Jared moved his hot mouth to Jensen’s neck and began to suck and bite in earnest, Jensen honestly thought he was going to come in his pants like a teenager.

Jared pulled away and Jensen whined. Jared smiled again, wolfish and pleased.

“I have been wanting to do that for ten years,” he said.

Jensen must’ve looked as puzzled as he felt because brief hurt flashed in Jared’s eyes and then he sighed. “Yeah. Figures. I guess I was a lot smaller back then. A lot younger too. You wouldn’t have looked at me twice.”

Jensen stared up at him and something about the floppy hair and eager, dimpled face began to seem familiar.

“No way,” he said. “JD’s kid?”

Jared nodded.

“Wow! You grew up… _wow_!”

Jared grinned again and Jensen was pretty sure that if he’d had a tail it would’ve been wagging.

Jensen licked his lips. He could still taste Jared on them. “So, uh, I’m sorry about JD. What happened?”

Jared’s face darkened. “Shot. In the back of the head. We never figured out who did it.”

Jensen frowned, because that just didn’t track. Pellegrino’s VP got shot; he should’ve moved Heaven and Earth to find the killer.

Jared stepped away and then tugged at Jensen’s arm. “C’mon, let’s get outta here.”

Jared had a black and chrome Dyna Switchback and Jensen gave it a long, low whistle and a nod of approval. “Nice.”

Jared climbed on and then patted the seat behind him. “Don’t fuck up my center of gravity. I put her down because of you, and I’ll put _you_ down, you hear me?”

Jensen rolled his eyes and slid on behind Jared, sitting pressed up against him. It had been a long time since he’d been on a bike and he’d missed it.

When Jensen had arrived home from the clinic in Switzerland, he’d been clean four years, but psychologically he’d still been a fucking mess.

The first week he’d moped around the house, playing X-box games and refusing to talk to anyone. His mom’s solution had been to have his dad arrange an additional Black Amex for Jensen, added to their own account. She’d told him to go shopping and cheer himself up.

Jensen had bought himself an entire wardrobe of expensive new clothes and a Harley Davidson Super Glide.

His dad had made him return the bike. And then he’d laid down the law.

No bikes.

No drugs. No tattoos. No playing cards. No playing pool.

Counselling with Dr Ferris once a month.

He’d strongly suggested that Jensen should go back to college.

In Texas.

And actually _go_ this time.

Jensen had mulled over that last one and then looked through the online course guide for The University of Texas, Austin; his father’s Alma Mater.

Why the hell not? He had to do something, right?

So Jensen started sketching and painting again. He put together a portfolio, filled in an application for the Bachelor of Fine Arts and then went to ask his dad for his SAT transcript and a letter of recommendation.

His father had laughed at him and told him he’d study business as originally planned. End of story.

Jensen had refused.

They’d fought about it for weeks, until Jensen had stormed out of the house, gone to a dive bar, gotten very, very drunk and then started a bar fight which got him arrested.

His father had bailed him out and then insisted that if he wasn’t going to go to college, Jensen needed a job. Jensen would go and work for Ackles Oil, he decreed. In the Sales and Marketing Department.

The management and staff in the Sales and Marketing Department had wanted Jensen there as much as Jensen had wanted to be there. He had no marketing qualifications, no interest in oil and he was an out, openly gay young man in an industry filled with old, traditional-family-values conservatives. 

He lasted a week before he lost his temper with one of the account managers.

Bob Rogers was a self-righteous Bible-thumper who’d quoted Leviticus at Jensen and told him that tattoos were a sin, not to mention unprofessional, within five minutes of meeting him. Jensen had taken great delight in rolling up his shirt sleeves and showing the man the demonic death-heads that covered his forearms.

Jensen and Bob had several snarky interactions throughout the week and Bob made no secret of the fact that Jensen might be an Ackles and the son of the Boss, but that didn’t mean Bob had to respect him. And he didn’t. He let everybody know that Jensen disgusted him and that he thought the department would be better off without him. 

On Friday, Jensen had turned up two hours late to a 7.00am meeting he hadn’t even known about until he got to the office and found everyone in the conference room. The Department Head had torn strips off Jensen in front of everyone. Apparently there’d been an email, but Jensen hadn’t seen it.

“What do you expect from some useless pretty-boy, dumped on us by his rich daddy?” Jensen had overheard Bob remark loudly as they all moved out of the conference room and back to their desks.

Jensen found the email in his trash folder and learned from one of the few women on staff that on the day the email went out she’d seen Bob loitering around Jensen’s workstation while Jensen was out getting lunch.

Later that day Jensen cornered Bob in the restroom. “I guess you think you’re pretty smart, deleting that email from my inbox.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bob said loftily.

“You don’t, huh?” Jensen leaned in close and smiled with cold, cruel eyes. “I know what you think about me. Rich kid. Son of the owner. _Fag_. You’ve heard rumors about drugs and rehab and you think I’m easy prey. Of course, you don’t _actually_ know where I’ve been for the last seven years, do you?” Jensen let everything that he’d ever learned from Heyerdahl show in his eyes. “I may not know about managing a client account, Bob, but I do know several ways to kill you and make it look like an accident,” he waited until the man looked good and spooked and then patted his cheek. “Y’all have a nice day now, Bob.”

The Department Head called Jensen into a meeting with his father and Bob an hour later and it was agreed that perhaps it would be for the best if Jensen didn’t continue with the Company.

His appointments with Sam Ferris were increased to weekly.

She encouraged him to take up a sport, so he began to play tennis.

Sometimes he attended charity functions with his mom.

All he had to do at those was stand beside his mother with a drink in one hand and look pretty for the bored, rich housewives. They didn’t care that he was gay and covered in tattoos. They thought it made him sexy and mysterious and his presence always made the socialites donate more.

Privately, Jensen thought it was hilarious that his conservative parents weren’t above using his ass for cash, so to speak.

But they still wouldn’t let him have a motorbike.

As Jared revved his Harley’s engine and roared out of the MorningStar Motors parking lot, Jensen thrilled at the feeling of the powerful motor throbbing in between his legs. Jared put his foot down and Jensen whooped. The speed was exhilarating. Such a rush. Yeah. He really had missed this.

\--     

Jared lived in a two bed/two bath ground floor apartment in West Hollywood.  It was nicer than the one Jensen had lived in last time he was in California. It even had a tiny back yard, where Jared kept two large dogs, despite the apartment’s _no pets_ policy.

Jared introduced him to Sadie and Harley and then spent fifteen minutes romping around with them like a giant puppy.

“You like dogs?” Jared asked.

“Sure,” Jensen ruffled Sadie’s head and let her lick his hand.

“Have you eaten?” Jared asked when they went back inside.

Jensen shrugged. “Had breakfast at a roadhouse and got Mickey Dees at a Drive thru for lunch.”

“I’ll order pizza,” Jared took out his phone.

Their food ordered, Jared passed Jensen a beer and they sat together on the sofa.

Jensen got out his Marlboros. “You got an ashtray?”

Jared pulled one out from the shelf beneath the coffee table.

“Thanks,” Jensen lit up.

Jared flicked on the TV.

“So,” Jensen said. “Do I get my own bedroom?”

Jared wrinkled his nose. “Hell, no. You’re mine.”

Jensen took a long drag.  “What if I don’t want to be?”

Jared’s eyes darkened. “You have a choice. Me or Pellegrino. Pellegrino wants to kill you. I just want you. Now I ain’t gonna lie. I want to fuck you. But I think we both know you’re not exactly against that idea.”

And Jensen definitely wasn’t. Jared was hot. He had an amazing body. And outside the Club he’d manhandled Jensen just the way Jensen liked it. The thought of Jared holding him down and fucking him hard made Jensen’s dick twitch. But.

“I ain’t against good sex, Jared. But I want a choice.”

Jared nodded. “You have a choice, Jen. Me or Pellegrino. With me, you get sex. With Pellegrino you get a bullet. Totally your choice. What’s it gonna be?”

“Oh gee,” Jensen rolled his eyes. “Let me think about that for a minute.”

They sat and stared at each other.

“Well?” Jared prompted. “Who do you choose?”

“You. Asshole. Clearly.”

There was a knock on the front door and Jared jumped to his feet. “Pizza!” He hurried forward and then turned back to Jensen. “I promise it’ll be good.”

Jensen raised an eyebrow. “The pizza?”

Jared shook his head. “You and me,” he grinned, happy and goofy and then bounded for the front door.

Jensen stared after Jared and then rubbed a hand across his jaw. Jared was giving him whiplash. One minute he was dark, threatening and commanding, the next he was all sunshine, rainbows and puppies. Which version was the real Jared? Or was the answer even more complicated than that?

Jensen sighed. He stubbed out his cigarette and picked up his beer.

\--

Jensen had not picked Jared as a sci-fi geek, but after watching back-to-back episodes of Stargate SG-1 and Stargate Atlantis and listening to Jared theorize about wormholes and faster than light travel and quantum physics, Jensen decided it was official. Somehow, the badass biker was also a giant nerd.

It was gone midnight when Jared finally switched the TV off.  He stood, stretched and then turned to look down at Jensen. His smile morphed from happy-go-lucky to predatory and he reached out a hand to Jensen. 

Oh yeah. Jensen swallowed. “You know, it’s been a long day. How about I sleep in the spare room tonight?”

Jared’s expression darkened. “I thought we settled this?” His hands went to his hips and Jensen’s eyes were drawn to his crotch, where there was an impressive bulge.

Jensen licked his lips. He’d always been a size queen. He couldn’t deny he wanted that monster cock in his mouth. And his ass.  His tongue darted out again, swiped around his lips, and then he bit at his bottom lip. Jared groaned and Jensen’s eyes darted up to Jared’s.

Jared was watching his mouth with a heated expression. “Question,” Jared said. “If you were a guest of the Club, just passing through, just staying at my place overnight, and I said, _hey dude, I think you’re hot, wanna fuck?_ What would you say?”

The truth wedged itself in Jensen’s throat. If Jared had made that offer in those circumstances, Jensen would’ve been naked and ass up immediately.

“Would you have said yes?” Jared’s voice was deep and rough. “Would you have begged me to give it to you hard and deep?”

Jensen swallowed. He shook his head.

Jared reached down and hauled him to his feet and then palmed Jensen’s hard, aching cock.

“Liar,” he said.

Jensen couldn’t help widening his stance to give Jared easier access.

Jared chuckled. “Yeah. Such a liar.”

He stopped stroking Jensen’s dick and dragged him to the bedroom.

“Strip,” he ordered.

Jensen’s dick signalled its enthusiastic agreement with the instruction by trying to hammer its way through his jeans.

Ah, what the hell. Jensen began to wrestle his clothes off. It had been a long, long time since he’d been properly fucked and Jared looked like he could do the job right. He wanted this. And okay, he was pissed that Jared planned on following through even if he didn’t, but Jensen wasn’t going to turn down good sex for the sake of his principles.

“On the bed,” Jared said when Jensen was naked.

Jensen climbed onto it and kneeled, chest down, ass up.

“Turn around,” Jared said. “On your back.”

Jensen rolled over.

Jared pulled a set of leather straps out from underneath the mattress and bound Jensen to the bed with his arms and legs spread wide. He wedged a pillow under his ass.

“Gonna make you beg for it,” he pulled a small trunk out from beneath the bed and opened it. Jensen strained to see what was in it.

Jared pulled out a strip of condoms, lube, and a vibrating inflatable butt plug. He moved in between Jensen’s spread thighs with a wolfish grin and then ripped open a condom and rolled it over Jensen’s cock. “We can do this bare once you’ve been tested,” he said and then sucked Jensen’s cock down his throat.

“Fuck!” Jensen strained against his bindings and would’ve come off the bed completely if he wasn’t tied down. “Nghhghg!!!”

Tight hot wet pressure. Oh God. It was perfect.  Jared sucked and tongued until Jensen was right on the edge.

And then he pulled off.

“No!” Jensen whined. “Get back there!”

Jared’s smile was slow and evil. He picked up the lube, flicked open the cap, and squeezed a little onto his middle finger.

He pushed the finger slowly inside of Jensen and then crooked it and pressed against his prostate.

Jensen tried to thrust down against the finger, but all that earned him was a sharp slap against his thigh and then Jared’s other hand, long fingers splayed, held his hip down so that he couldn’t move.

Jared kept up a slow, maddening pressure that somehow managed to be both too much and not enough, until Jensen started to swear at him.

“Fuck you, Jared, I’m begging all right? Stop fucking teasing and get on with it!”

His ass was suddenly empty and Jensen spat more curses at Jared.

Jared picked up the plug. He lubed it, shoved it into Jensen without preamble, and then began to pump it up.

Jensen squirmed and gasped as his ass was forced wide open.

“That’ll do for now,” Jared said smugly and then turned the vibrations on.

Jensen arched off the bed like a bow string, a litany of curses falling from his lips. Jared shut him up by kissing him and Jensen kissed him back desperately, their tongues duelling for dominance. Jared’s mouth worked its way to Jensen’s jaw and then to his throat, where he bit and sucked, ringing Jensen’s neck with hickeys.

Jensen was writhing like a wild cat and making noises like one too. Jared made his way down Jensen’s body, stopping at his nipples to lick and suck them into desperate peaks, before moving down to his purple, steel-hard dick and treating the head to a series of kitten licks and gentle sucks that soon had Jensen begging for more.

Jared sat back and stared down at him. “I think you’re hot,” he said. “Wanna fuck?”

“Yes. God yes! Please! Need you to fuck me, Jare. Need it deep and hard. _Please_!”

“Hmmm,” Jared put a finger to his lips and looked down at Jensen thoughtfully. “I seem to recall you saying something different earlier. Did you lie to me before, Jensen?”

Jensen shook his head. “Didn’t want to want it. But I do. _Please_.”

Jared tilted his head and frowned. “So…you said you didn’t want it, but you did?”

Jensen nodded.

“So you lied?”

Jensen groaned. “Fuck. Okay, fine. I lied. Happy now?”

“No,” Jared’s eyes were suddenly a lot darker and a lot less playful. “I don’t like being lied to. I’m going to have to punish you for that.”

Jensen thunked his head back against the mattress. “How?”

Jared grinned. “Two choices,” Jensen groaned. He was growing to hate Jared’s so-called choices. “One, I leave you like this and go and sleep in the spare room.”

Jensen officially hated that choice.

“Or two, I uncuff you, you get on your hands and knees and I spank you. And then I fuck you and you have an Earth-shattering orgasm.”

Jensen liked the part of the plan where he got fucked and got to come. The rest of it…not so much. “What do you want to hit me with?”

“Just my hand,” Jared said, reaching down and running said ginormous hand up and down Jensen’s inner-thigh. “You can take a little hand-spanking, can’t you?”

Jensen swallowed. He was so turned on, so desperate to come, that he was prepared to agree to almost anything that would get him an orgasm.

“Not so little,” he croaked. “Your hands are like freaking _shovels_ , man.”

Jared smiled and pressed on the base of the vibrating plug, grinding it hard against Jensen’s prostate. Jensen moaned. “How many times?”

Jared shrugged. “Until I think you’ve been properly spanked.”

The tip of the plug ground against his prostate again and then Jared eased the vibrations right down to almost nothing and ran a fingertip over the head of Jensen’s leaking cock.

“Fuck! Okay, fine! Whatever. I’ll take it.”

Jared wasted no time in undoing Jensen’s bindings and Jensen rolled onto his hands and knees.

Jared pulled out the butt plug and then ran a gentle hand across Jensen’s ass. “I wonder how many you can take before you cry,” he mused. And then he drew his hand back and spanked Jensen hard.

As it turned out, Jensen could take a lot before he cried.

And his dick stayed steel-hard throughout the whole ordeal.

In fact it wasn’t so much an ordeal as a kink Jensen hadn’t even known he had. It hurt, but it also sent shockwaves of pleasure vibrating straight up to his prostate and his dick.

By the time Jensen felt the blunt head of Jared’s cock pushing against his hole, his chest and his wet cheek were pressed against the mattress and he was feeling pleasantly relaxed and floaty.

Which was probably just as well, because Jared was huge and Jensen was sure that Jared’s cock slowly but insistently forcing its way up his ass would have hurt a lot more if he hadn’t been feeling so spaced out.

Soon enough though, Jared was giving him the best deep, hard dicking he’d had in, frankly, ever, and when he reached around and took hold of Jensen’s dick with his big hand—still hot from spanking Jensen’s ass—Jensen’s entire body seized and he had the Earth-shattering orgasm that Jared had promised him.

It took Jared another five or so minutes to come and by the time he was finished, Jensen was sore. But he also felt more sated than he’d ever felt in his life. Jensen had been well-used; Jared had ridden him hard and put him away wet and Jensen was sleepy and satisfied. He almost felt drugged.

He yawned and then rolled onto his back, away from the wet patch, hissing when his sore ass hit the sheets.

“You’re on clean-up,” he slurred. “Sleeping now.”

The next thing he knew, the sun was streaming in the bedroom window and Mark Pellegrino’s face was inches from his.

“Holy fuck!” he scrambled backwards and yelped when his ass touched the mattress. Fuck that hurt.

“Heaven. I’m in Heaven,” Pellegrino began to sing, swinging his hips and waving his arms in the air.

Jensen gaped at him. He’d forgotten what a psycho-weirdo Pellegrino was. He looked around for Jared, but couldn’t see him.

“Something I can do for you, Mark?”

Pellegrino pointed at him, “That’s Mr President, Sir, to you, Son. And yes. Get up.”

Jensen climbed off the bed, keeping the sheet wrapped around him.

Pellegrino raised his eyebrows. “Really? Lose the sheet, kid.”

Jensen tossed the sheet onto the bed.

Mark twirled his finger and Jensen slowly spun around, giving the Club President a good 360 degree view of his body.

“Nice,” Pellegrino said appreciatively. “Finger-shaped bruises on your hips, your neck’s covered in hickeys and that ass is gonna hurt to sit on for at least a week,” he walked to the open bedroom door. “Good job, Padalecki,” he called out.

Jared appeared at the door with a spatula in one hand. “Go shower and dress,” he told Jensen. “I want you in the kitchen in ten minutes.”

Last time Jensen was a part of HellSpawn MC, he’d slept with both Pellegrino and Heyerdahl on a regular basis. He’d been young, gay, in a liberal state for the first time and far away from his conservative family. Casual sex, and lots of it, had seemed to be the thing to do. Jensen had enjoyed the thrill of the chase and he’d soon learned that when it came to men, he had a type; dangerous, deadly, dominant.  He hadn’t always enjoyed the sex, but he’d learned a lot about his preferences.  

Now, under the steaming water of the shower, Jensen took a few precious moments to collect himself. It had been a long-ass couple of days and he still wasn’t sure what to make of Jared. So far, he’d mostly been friendly and easy-going, but you didn’t get to be the VP of a three-piece patch, 1%’er MC without having some serious tough-guy credentials. Jared was a shot-caller and without a doubt, he had personally killed people. Jensen had been involved in his fair share of violence, but he’d never been the one calling the shots.

Jared literally had the power of life and death over Jensen and it would make sense for Jensen to be scared of him. Somehow, he wasn’t. And maybe that was a mistake. But he’d had a lot more fun since Pellegrino handed him over to Jared than he’d had in a long while, so Jensen decided to be cautiously optimistic.

He towelled himself dry, dressed in the clothes he’d been wearing for the past two days because they were the only ones he had—Pellegrino still had his wallet, his cell phone, his duffel bag and his car—and then went out to the kitchen.

Jared was serving up bacon, eggs and hash-browns to Pellegrino, Heyerdahl and a third guy who Jensen didn’t know.

Jared told him to take a seat and everybody laughed when he lowered himself onto it carefully. Heyerdahl even slapped Jared on the back.

Jensen rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything. He tucked into his breakfast with gusto and then fished his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket.

“Not while we’re eating,” Pellegrino said, pointing at Jensen with a yoke colored knife.

Jensen sighed and put the Marlboro packet down on the table, lighter on top.

“When can I have my stuff back?” he asked.

“The car’s gone to a chop shop,” Pellegrino said. “I gave the rest of your stuff to Padalecki already.”

Jensen looked across at Jared who reached into the inside pocket of his cut and pulled out Jensen’s cell phone. He slid it across the table to Jensen and then took out Jensen’s wallet.

“Pellegrino kept the cash,” he said. “I’m keeping hold of the credit cards for the moment,” he put the wallet down on the table and then put Jensen’s five year bronze medallion on top of it and raised an eyebrow.

“So?” Jensen said.

“You’re an addict?”

Jensen met Jared’s eyes and saw sadness in them.

“Yeah,” he said. “Seven years clean now, but yeah.”

“Okay,” Jared nodded. “Good to know.”

“Jare-bear’s momma was a junkie,” Pellegrino sing-songed.

Jared didn’t respond, so Jensen decided to change the subject.

“What about the rest of my stuff?”

“Your duffel bag’s in the bedroom.”

Well at least he had some clean clothes. Jensen picked up his smokes. “Y’all done eating?”

At Pellegrino’s nod he lit up.

Pellegrino watched him draw back on his cigarette and then introduced Jensen to the guy he didn’t know, a biker called Bam-Bam.

Jensen snorted. “No shit? Bam-Bam? Really?”

“Long story,” Bam-Bam said. “Maybe Moose will tell you later,” he nodded at Jared.

“Moose?” Jensen said. “Oh, I gotta hear the story behind that.”

Jared’s mouth twisted. “We did a run up to Vermont a few years back; had some business to take care of. My first major run. I hit a moose.”

“It really did a number on him,” HeyDay spoke up. “His bike was a write off and Jared spent six weeks in hospital. And you know what the first thing he said was when he came around?”

Jensen shook his head.

“What about the moose? Is the moose okay?”

“Was it?” Jensen asked.

Jared shook his head. “Killed on impact. After that the guys all started calling me Moose. I think it was Crossroads who came up with it. You know him, right?”

Jensen nodded. “Mark Sheppard, right? Short guy? British accent? Sells used cars and makes a fucking fortune?”

“That’s him,” said Pellegrino. “Anyhoo, Bam-Bam here is a tattoo artist. He’s gonna ink over that tattoo that says you’re a HellSpawn Prospect, because you ain’t. And then he’s gonna give you a new tatt,” Pellegrino smiled evilly and Jensen reminded himself that his biker nickname was The Beast. “Padalecki’s having a tramp stamp put on you.”

Jensen looked at Jared. “I get any say in this ink?”

“Sure,” Jared grinned. “Bam-Bam did two designs for me. I’ll let you choose which one you want.”

Jensen sighed. “All right. Let’s see ‘em.”

Bam-Bam went over to a bag he’d stowed in the corner of the room and pulled out a sketch book, which he opened up and then put on the table in front of Jensen.

The two tattoos were essentially the same; a demonic skull with fiery red eyes and bat wings. One of them had a halo of red roses above its head and the other had a halo of barbed wire above its head. That was the only difference. Both versions of the tattoo had the word _HellSpawn_ _Forever_ written beneath one wing and the words _Property of JP_ written beneath the other.

“Really?” Jensen looked at Jared with a raised eyebrow.

Jared shrugged.

“All the Old Ladies get the version with the roses,” Bam-Bam said helpfully. “But Moose thought you might prefer something a bit more masculine.”

Jensen stared at him for a moment. “What happened to Chopper? The guy who used to do the Club’s tatts? Do you work for him?”

Bam-Bam nodded. “Used to anyway. He’s doing Life in San Quentin for bashing his Old Lady to death with a hammer.”

“Oh,” Jensen looked back down at the drawings. “You know,” he mused, “I think I prefer the roses too. Adds color to the piece.”

Bam-Bam looked at Jared who shrugged again. “It’s Jensen’s choice.”

Jensen grinned. “All right! Let’s do this.”

\--

As with so many things that Jensen used to enjoy a whole lot, it had been a long-ass time since he’d last gotten a tattoo. After two hours in Bam-Bam’s portable chair, his lower back was on fire and he was half hard. Getting inked up always turned him on.

He’d also run out of cigarettes half an hour ago and no matter how much he bitched and moaned no one would go out and get him any more.

“Done,” Bam-Bam sat back. “What do you think, Moose?”

Jared nodded appreciatively and Jensen strained to see over his shoulder. Bam-Bam told him to wait a moment and then went and got a couple of large hand-held mirrors out of his kit bag.

The writing was backwards, of course, but Jensen didn’t really care about the writing. That would be easy enough to ink over or laser off some time down the track. The skull itself was fantastic and Jensen liked it.

“Good job. Better than Chopper.”

Bam-Bam grinned and ducked his head.

Later, when Jensen’s back had been sprayed with anti-septic and bandaged and everyone had left, Jensen rounded on Jared.

“I need two things. One: a fucking packet of cigarettes; and two: a blow job.”

Jared laughed. “I think you’ve forgotten who owns who.”

Jensen’s eyebrows lifted. “You do know they abolished slavery in the 1800s, right?”

Jared pointed over his back with his thumbs at the patch on his cut. “Outlaw biker. I do a lot of things that ain’t legal.”

Jensen snaked his arms around Jared’s waist and pulled him close. “You don’t own me, Moose, never will. But. If you did, wouldn’t it be your job to take care of me?” Jensen ground his hard cock against Jared’s. “C’mon,” he slid to his knees and began to work Jared’s belt open. “I’ll suck your dick; then you suck mine. Deal?”

He didn’t wait for an answer though, just took Jared’s half-hard cock out and got his mouth on it, licking and nibbling and then swallowing Jared down and sucking him to full hardness. Jared meanwhile, got his fingers in Jensen’s hair and began to thrust, little restrained jerks of his hips.

“Oh God. So fucking good, Jen. Wanna fuck your mouth. Can I?”

Jensen moaned around the cock in his mouth and then looked up at Jared and nodded.

Jared began to thrust hard and Jensen relaxed his throat and took it, his eyes watering and his own cock becoming so hard it was painful. He was only in his boxers, having taken his jeans off for the tattoo, so it was easy to slip a hand inside them and begin to jerk himself off.

At least it _was_ easy, until Jared grabbed hold of his arm and yanked it out of his boxers. “That’s mine,” he growled.

Jensen whined and Jared’s thrusts became frenzied. Just when Jensen thought the biker was about to come down his throat, Jared pulled out and came all over his face instead.

“Gross!” Jensen pulled his tee-shirt off and used it to wipe his face. “What the fuck, man? You trying to mark your territory or something?”

Jared laughed. “Safe sex,” he said. “Well…safeish. We haven’t been tested yet.”

Oh. Right. Jensen rubbed at the back of his neck. Oops?

He climbed to his feet. “I’m gonna go wash my face.”

“Get a condom while you’re in there,” Jared called after him. “I wanna return the favor.”

\--

Jensen butted out his cigarette. The ashtray was on the floor beside the sofa where he was lying, face down, and it was starting to get rather full.

Jensen stretched comfortably and glanced across at Jared. Apparently Jared had taken the day off work ‘to get Jensen settled’ and with Jensen’s tattoos taken care of, he was now entertaining himself with a _Mythbusters_ marathon.

“Did I say thank you for going out to get me smokes?” Jensen asked.

Jared turned away from the TV. “Twice. With blow jobs both times. If you’re planning on saying thank you again, I’ve gotta be honest… I don’t think I’ll be able to get it up for a while.”

Jensen sighed. “I’m bored.”

“Wanna go for a ride on the bike?”

Jensen wrinkled his nose. “My ass still hurts.”

Jared rolled his eyes. “Baby,” he said. “It’s barely even bruised. Just enough to keep the Devil happy.”

Jensen spluttered out a laugh. “Pellegrino know you call him that?”

Jared shrugged.

Jensen looked at Jared, lips pursed and head tilted.

“What?”

Jensen chewed at his bottom lip and then decided to just ask. “He still fucking you?”

Jared didn’t even pretend not to understand. “Nope,” he shook his head. “I got too tall and too built. Pellegrino prefers twinks.”

“Yeah. I remember.”

Jared sniggered. “Man, you were so twinky back then,” Jared looked at him appraisingly. “With those lips and those eyes, you _might_ still make the cut—but these days Pellegrino doesn’t fuck around close to home. His Old Lady would kill him.”

Jensen frowned. “Who’s he with?”

“Chick called Alaina. She wasn’t around last time you were. She was doing ten years in Chowchilla for armed robbery.”

“What about you?” Jensen asked. “You done time?”

“Not since Juvie. So listen, your family’s pretty rich, huh?”

Jensen made a non-committal noise.

“Did you call them? When I was out getting your cancer sticks?”

Jensen shook his head.

“Show me your phone.”

Jensen handed it over.

Jared messed with it for a moment and then looked at Jensen accusingly. “You’ve deleted stuff. There’s only three missed calls here. That’s it.”

“It’s a new sim card.”

“Bullshit. Who did you call?”

 “No one. I…look, my dad was being an asshole. I changed sim cards so he wouldn’t be able to get hold of me. I hadn’t gotten around to making any calls with it when your guys picked me up. The only person who even has the number is my buddy Chris.”

Jared looked skeptical, but he nodded. “Okay. Call Chris. Tell him you’re okay.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s safer for Chris if he doesn’t start asking questions about you.”

Jensen pursed his lips and then held out his hand for the phone.

“Put it on speaker.”

Chris answered on the third ring. “You promised you wouldn’t just take off, you asshole.”

“Sorry,” Jensen said. “Some old buddies turned up and made me an offer too good to refuse.”

Chris wasn’t in the slightest bit mollified. He bitched at him a whole lot more and Jensen let him, periodically offering an apology.

Finally, Chris’s anger ran out. “Whatever. It’s done. FYI, your dad sent his security guy around. He’s pissed that you missed Cotillion.”

“What did you tell him?”

Chris snorted. “That I’m not your fucking keeper.”

“Sorry,” Jensen said yet again. “If he asks again you can tell him I’m not marrying a chick, like ever, and seeing as how he doesn’t like my lifestyle, I won’t bother him with it any more.”

There was a long pause and then Chris asked him where he was. Jensen looked at Jared who shook his head.

“I don’t wanna say yet. But I’m okay. Good even. Just…wanna do my own thing for a while, you know?”

Another silence. “You using again?” Chris asked softly.

“No,” Jensen said. “Scout’s honor.”

Chris sniggered. “You were never a Boy Scout, Son. Look, I ain’t gonna say I’m not pissed you took off again without a word after promising you wouldn’t, but…” he sighed, “just stay in touch, all right?”

“Will do,” Jensen said. “Say _Hi_ to Steve for me.” He pressed _end_.

“Chris sounds like a good buddy.”

“Yeah, he is.”

“Sounds like you don’t really get along with your folks, though.”

Jensen sniffed. “You could say that.”

“They gonna report you missing?”

Jensen shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe.”

Jared nodded. “You should call them. Tell them you’re okay. Tell them not to look for you.”

Jensen raised an eyebrow. “Why? Chris’ll pass on the message.”

“Be better if it came from you.”

Jensen shook his head. “I don’t want them to have this number.”

“I have a bag full of burners. You can use one of them.”

Jensen acquiesced with a huff and Jared went and got him a cell phone that they would discard immediately after the call.

Jensen called his parents’ house and was thankful when Lucia answered.

“Hola, Lucia. Es Jensen. ¿Cómo estás?”

“Jensen! Are you okay, _Papito_? Your father is so angry.”

“I’m fine. I’m guessing he’s at the office, so is mom there?”

“I’ll get her for you. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. Just. Needed to get away. Be my own person again. I’m sorry if I worried you.”

He repeated the same sentiments to his mom when Lucia put her on the phone.

His mom’s response was cool. She told him that she and his father were very disappointed that he’d ducked out on his responsibilities yet again and they certainly weren’t prepared to fund his wayward lifestyle.

“Your father has already cancelled your credit cards,” she said.

“Good,” Jensen said. “You live your life, I’ll live mine,” he pressed _end_ and then pulled the sim card out of the phone and snapped it in half. He gave the snapped card and the handset to Jared.

“Okay,” Jared said. “I’ll update Pellegrino, let him know you’re not a risk to the Club. That I don’t need to keep you chained to my bed,” he paused and looked Jensen up and down. “You’re gonna need a job.”

“What?” Jensen frowned. “I thought flopping over ass up for you was my job?”

Jared’s eyes darkened. “You want it to be? You wanna be nothing but a fuck toy?”

Jensen lit another cigarette. “So. A job. What did you have in mind?”

“Heyerdahl wants you back with him.”

Jensen took a drag. His hand was shaking. “No,” he said. “I can’t. Not after…”

Jared’s eyes became warm and wide. “You were involved in that thing with The Dead Reapers, weren’t you?”

Jensen nodded.

There was a long silence.

“You wanna talk about it?” Jared asked finally.

Jensen shook his head.

“Fair enough. JD was pissed, you know. Beaver and him were good friends.”

Jensen’s eyes darted up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t have a choice. I tried so hard not to hurt them too much, but HeyDay could see what I was doing and…and…that’s why I ran. I don’t even know if they made it.”

“They did,” Jared said. “Beaver’s in a wheelchair now, though, and Traci’s blind.”

“God,” Jensen covered his face with his hand. “No wonder you wanted a shot at me.”

The creak of the armchair told Jensen that Jared had gotten up and he steeled himself to be hauled off the sofa and dragged to the bedroom for another punishment. It wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it.

Jared squatted down next to the sofa and pulled Jensen’s hand away from his face.

“JD didn’t blame you for what happened,” he said. “He blamed Pellegrino and Heyerdahl. JD was actually worried about you when you disappeared. He didn’t buy Pellegrino’s story that you’d stolen a case full of money and run off with it. He thought they’d had you killed.”

“Nope. I freaked the fuck out, stole the cash and ran.”

“And Pellegrino expects me to punish you for that,” Jared caressed Jensen’s face and then held him firmly by the jaw and looked into his eyes. “But given how rough you like it and the way your dick stayed hard throughout that spanking I gave you last night, I don’t think you’re gonna have too much of a problem with that.”

Jensen squirmed and licked at his lips. “So. Back to that whole job thing?”

“What can you do?”

Jensen blew out air. “Uh, I can play pool, like, tournament standard. I can hustle pool. I’m good at poker,” he shrugged. “I can bus tables. That’s about it.”

He almost mentioned that he could draw and paint, but he doubted Jared would be any more interested in that than his father had been.

“Okay,” Jared leaned in and gave Jensen a brief, chaste kiss. “I’ll talk to the guys.”


	3. Chapter 3

Jensen recognized the blondes; Katie and Nicky, but neither of the brunettes had been around when he was a HellSpawn Prospect.

Jared patted him on the ass. “Go make nice with the other sweet-butts,” he said, before taking off for the Chapel.

Jensen pulled a face at his retreating back, but made his way over to the den area; four two-seater sofas around a big square coffee table, not too far away from the bar.

“Hi Ladies,” he said, treating the women to his biggest grin as he approached.

Katie flicked him a bored expression. “Dean,” she said. “Or whatever the hell your name is.”

Jensen rubbed at the back of his neck. “Yeah. It’s Jensen.”

One of the brunettes squealed. “Jen! I’m Gen too. With a G. Genevieve.”

The other brunette snorted. “Don’t believe her peppy act, Jensen. She just wants to know how you landed Padalecki. She was gunning to be his Old Lady.”

Gen scowled. “Shut up, Rachel! Just ‘cause I’m not an unfriendly bitch like you!” She turned back to Jensen. “Just what are you to Jared anyway?”

Jensen shrugged and plonked himself down on the sofa next to Rachel.  “Good question,” he got out his cigarettes and lit up before offering the packet around.

Only Rachel took him up on the offer. Katie lit a cigarette of her own, some skinny looking menthol thing.

“I heard he bought out your debt to the Club,” Nicky said.

Jensen gave a half-shrug and then nodded.

“I guess that means he owns you,” Katie teased.

Jensen scowled at her and then shrugged again. “He seems to think so.”

Gen looked at him thoughtfully. “So you don’t actually mean anything to him?”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Moose is _gay_. You’re never gonna be his Old Lady, Gen.”

Gen glared at her, then turned back to Jensen and looked at him expectantly.

Jensen realized she was waiting for some kind of answer.

“Fucked if I know,” he said.

Katie snorted and tapped ash into a big black ashtray with a long red fingernail. “Oh, I bet you are. Six ways from Sunday. You’re just Moose’s type.”

“Did he put a stamp on you?” Nicky asked.

Jensen nodded.

“Can we see it?”

“It’s still bandaged.”

“Is it like this one?” Katie pushed down the back of her jeans to reveal a tattoo that was almost identical to Jensen’s.

“Almost,” he said. “Mine’s got words under the other wing too.”

Gen’s eyebrows shot up. “What words?”

Jensen rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Uh, it says, ‘Property of JP’.”

“I don’t fucking believe it!” Gen screeched. “He put an Old Lady stamp on you. Already!”

“Really? Huh,” Jensen pursed his lips. “I thought he was just being a dick. You know about the whole ‘owning me’ thing.”

“Nope,” Rachel said. “It’s an Old Lady stamp. We’ve all got sweet-butt tattoos. We’re _HellSpawn Forever_ , but we don’t belong to anyone yet. Alaina and Ruthie have tattoos like yours. Alaina is The Beast’s Old Lady and Ruthie belongs to Crossroads.” 

Jensen had no idea who Ruthie was, but no doubt he would find out.

He glanced over at Gen who looked utterly heartbroken. “I can’t believe it,” she muttered. “He’s known you two days!”

“Technically he’s known me for ten years,” Jensen butted out his cigarette. “How long do you think they’ll be in there?” he nodded toward the Chapel where Jared was meeting with the rest of the full patches.

Rachel shrugged eloquently. “Do you know how to use an espresso machine?”

Jensen shook his head and Rachel got to her feet.

“C’mon,” she said. “I’ll teach you how to make coffee and run the bar.”

By the time Jared and the others came out of the Chapel, Jensen had mastered the art of the double shot latte and learned how to pull a beer so that it had just the right amount of foam.

“Should’ve known you’d be able to give good head,” Rachel had said slyly.

She worked in hospitality, currently behind a bar although she’d worked as a barista for years. Jensen liked her dry sense of humor.

Gen was a waitress in a pizza restaurant and despite her epic unrequited crush on Jared, Jensen actually found her really sweet.

Katie and Nicky were both strippers and they were perfectly capable of curb stomping you with their stilettos if you got on their bad side.  

Jensen had fully expected to be on their shit list, given that he’d stolen from the Club and gone on the run. Luckily for him, Katie had been good friends with Traci back in the day and Katie didn’t blame him at all for freaking out and taking off after the torture session HeyDay had forced him to take part in.

Jensen hadn’t done the worst of it himself, but he still had nightmares about the way Traci had screamed when Heyerdahl poured acid on her face. It wasn’t that Jensen was averse to fucking people up; he simply didn’t like hurting the innocent just to punish the guilty. Besides, Jensen had skills. He knew when people were telling the truth and Jim had been telling God’s honest truth, Jensen had been sure of it.

“And the worst part,” Katie said, her voice low and rough, “was JD getting proof that The Beast’s intel was wrong. It’s wasn’t The Dead Reapers who sicced the FBI on him; they were still loyal.”

Jensen wasn’t quite sure what Rachel saw in his face, but he took the shot glass of whiskey that she quietly offered him and threw it back. 

“They figure out who it was?”

Nicky stared at him. “Pellegrino thought it was you for a while. But then JD pointed out that you didn’t have access to the kind of information you would’ve needed.”

Jensen frowned. “So who was it?”

Nicky shrugged. “If the guys ever figured it out, they didn’t tell the sweet-butts.”

When the Chapel door opened and the full patches walked out, it was a welcome distraction from memories that Jensen didn’t want in his head.

“Who all wants a beer?” Jensen called out, getting down a couple of beer glasses.

He helped Rachel serve everyone and then poured himself another shot of whiskey and headed toward Jared, who was racking up the balls to play pool with Freddy Lehne, who, Jensen recalled, was a damn good player.

“So Heyday’s decided he doesn’t want you back.”

Jensen tried to keep the relief from showing on his face. The idea of being apprenticed to the Club’s Sergeant-at-arms and master torturer again had been less than thrilling.

“But if you’re not gonna be chained to my bed, Pellegrino definitely wants you earning, so,” Jared handed him the cue. “Show us that you’ve still got it.”

\--

Jensen’s grandpa had a pool table, a custom made, oversized 8’ table, with a wood-backed slate playing surface, blended cloth that was 75% wool and an ornately carved frame made from mahogany, embellished with mother-of-pearl.

As a small child, Jensen had watched a lot of business conducted over that pool table, all the while itching to get his hands on a cue. Children weren’t allowed to play on the table though. It wasn’t a toy. It was strictly for grown-ups. As Jensen had learned to his detriment when he’d been seven years old and had helped himself to a cue and tried to play by himself. His grandpa heard the click of the balls breaking and came running, wrenching the cue from Jensen’s hands and using it to smack his butt. 

So Jensen had watched and learned and waited. His father had been proud of Jensen, had assumed his son and heir hung out because he was interested in learning about the business. Jensen didn’t give a shit about oil or drilling or lawsuits against environmentalists, he just wanted to play pool.

And when he was eleven, he was finally allowed to. He beat his grandpa, the first game he played and despite his grandpa labelling it a fluke; beginner’s luck; it quickly became apparent that when it came to pool, Jensen was something of a prodigy.

The look on Freddy Lehne’s face when Jensen sank the black, reminded him a great deal of his grandpa’s sour loser face and he smirked.

“Don’t sulk, Freddy. You pocketed that four. One ball down means you don’t have to run around the table with your pants down.”

Freddy scowled at Jensen and then gave Jared a pointed look.

Jared had clearly enjoyed watching Jensen beat Freddy and if Jensen had bent over and wriggled his ass a little more than was strictly necessary, if he’d stroked his cue and tormented its tip with chalk, well, it was only because he enjoyed watching Jared’s eyes darken with desire.

When Jared pulled Jensen back, flush against him, Jensen went easily. The biker kissed his jaw hungrily and then whispered. “Freddy has status. You don’t. So watch what you say or you’ll be the one with your pants down.”

Jensen pressed his ass against Jared’s groin, enjoying the obvious evidence of Jared’s arousal.

“Be hard for you to fuck me with my pants up,” he quipped.

Jared’s grip on him tightened. “That what you want? You want me to bend you over the pool table and fuck you in front of everyone? Show them all who you belong to?”

Jensen spun in Jared’s grip. “Hell no. We’d fuck up the cloth,” he licked at his lips. “They still got those spare bedrooms out the back?”

Jared nodded and began to tug Jensen toward the hallway. A cacophony of wolf whistles and suggestive comments accompanied their exit.

Jared kicked the spare room’s door shut and pushed Jensen until the back of his legs hit the edge of the single bed. Jared spun him around then, and bent him over, yanking his pants down so roughly that the button of his jeans flew off.

Jensen heard the sound of a drawer opening, following by a click and a squelch and then two slick fingers were thrust hard and fast into his ass.

Jensen grunted at the burn. He pillowed his head on his folded arms and pushed back, urging Jared deeper.

“Pushy,” Jared said warningly, reaching around and palming Jensen’s dick, swiping a finger through the precome that was beaded at the tip and smearing it around the sensitive head.

“Fuck, Jared!”

Jared chuckled. “Fuck Jensen,” he corrected.

Jensen rolled his eyes. “Right. So get on with it.”

The comment earned his ass a hard slap, but Jared complied. There was the crinkled sound of a condom being unwrapped and then Jensen felt blunt pressure against his hole. Jared thrust hard and got half way in before Jensen’s ass clamped down on the intrusion. Jensen breathed through it and tried to relax, but _fuck_ Jared was huge.

“C’mon, baby,” Jared soothed. “You can take it. Just relax.”

Jensen huffed out a laugh. Easy for Jared to say. Jared nudged forward, gaining ground in tiny increments until his pelvis was flush against Jensen’s ass.

Jared gave him a moment to get used to the stretch and then began to fuck him hard and fast. Jensen had to grip the bedspread to keep his balance and he could feel the finger-shaped bruises on his hips deepening in color.

Jared shifted slightly and on the next thrust he hit Jensen’s prostate dead on. Jensen couldn’t help his long drawn out moan or the way his fingers flexed in the bedspread, like a kneading cat.

[ ](http://s51.photobucket.com/user/zarazee71/media/Jen%20Cat%20ZZ-1.2_zpsp6iaest5.jpeg.html)

Jared moved one hand from Jensen’s hip to the back of his head and Jensen would’ve rolled his eyes at the obvious power play if his eyes hadn’t been too busy rolling backwards in ecstasy. A couple more thrusts and the bedspread’s friction against his dick, was just enough to send him over the edge.

Jared followed a few heartbeats later and Jensen hissed when he pulled out.

Jensen used a corner of the bedspread to wipe the come from his dick and the excess lube from his ass and then pulled his pants up.

“You wrecked my jeans,” he grumbled, searching the floor for his missing button, while Jared saw to himself, tied off the condom and threw it into a small trash can beside the lamp table.

Jared just looked smug.

When they made their way back into the main club room they got a round of applause, although Jensen noted that Gen didn’t look particularly happy and he didn’t like the calculating looks he and Jared were getting from both Pellegrino and Heyerdahl.

“Good job, Moose,” Pellegrino said. “Your little kitty makes real pretty noises when he’s being well fucked.”

Jensen tensed and Jared ran a soothing hand down his side. “He does, doesn’t he?”

Jared steered Jensen over to the bar and rapped on it. “Get me a beer, Bar Wench. All this fucking’s thirsty work.”

Rachel pulled him a beer and then pulled one for Jensen too. “I’m sure your boy needs to lubricate his throat after all that yowling.”

Jared looked smug again. He downed half his beer and then went to join the rest of the full patches in a game of poker, leaving Jensen sitting at the bar with Rachel.

She folded her arms and leaned down on the bar, giving him a really good view of her breasts; in which he was absolutely uninterested.

“Wow,” she said. “He actually has a major-league crush on you,” she stared into Jensen’s eyes. “And you’re playing him.”

Jensen toyed with his beer mat and then looked up at Rachel from beneath his eyelashes. “Do you blame me?”

Rachel smirked. “Don’t try batting those big green eyes at me, Jensen, I’m immune,” she looked at him thoughtfully. “What’s he told you? About himself?”

Jensen shrugged. “Not a lot.”

Rached nodded. “He’s had a hard life, but Jared’s basically a decent guy. Don’t hurt him.”

Jensen snorted. “I’m the one who got told I could take Pellegrino’s bullet in my brain or Padalecki’s cock in my ass, so excuse me if I’m short on sympathy. I’m just making the best of things.”

Rachel cocked her head. “Well _the best_ could actually be very good for you, if you play your cards right,” she looked across to where the full patches were playing poker. “And I hear you’re a very good card player.”

\--

Jensen woke up with Jared’s dick in his ass and his teeth in the back of his neck. He didn’t complain; the previous morning had told him there was no point; instead he spread his legs and relaxed, letting the pressure of the mattress against his dick and the way Jared unerringly found his sweet spot, bring him to orgasm.

Jared rolled off him and a moment later Jensen heard the shower.

The biker worked as a mechanic at MorningStar Motors and having taken the best part of two days off when Pellegrino gave Jensen to him, he now had a lot of work to catch up on.

Jensen vaguely heard Jared say good-bye and managed a bleary smile before going back to sleep.

Jensen didn’t do mornings.

When he woke up later he stumbled, eyes half open, to the kitchen and made himself coffee. He lit a cigarette and sat at the kitchen table, smoking and caffeinating himself until he felt half-way human. And then he went and showered, washing the dried come from his pubes and belly and the left over lube from his ass.

He dressed in jeans, a white tee-shirt and a black leather jacket, with a blue-checked bandana tied cowboy style around his neck. Then he made himself some toast and with nothing better to do until his escort arrived, Jensen went and switched on the TV.

Jared had forbidden Jensen to leave the apartment without an escort and on the one hand, Jensen was pissed. On the other, it turned him the fuck on when Jared got all bossy and dominating.

The knock on the door came at precisely midday and when Jensen opened the door the guy standing on the other side of it was not at all what he’d expected.  Blond, skinny and baby-faced, the guy on the doorstep looked more like the boy next door than an outlaw biker. Still, Jensen knew better than to judge someone by their outward appearance; case in point—himself.

The guy—Chad, Jared had said he was called—was giving Jensen just as thorough a once over as Jensen was giving him.

“Huh,” Jensen said. “I can see why your nickname’s Squint.”

Chad squinted prissily at him. “I hear they used to call you D-Dawg, back when they thought you were called Dean. Fucking pussy name, man.”

Jensen shrugged. “I didn’t choose it.”

Chad looked at him hard and there it was; the steel and the menace hiding beneath the harmless-looking exterior.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Chad said, “I’m a Prospect, you’re a Fucktoy, so—”

Jensen didn’t let him finish before he had the Prospect pinned against the wall.

“Yeah,” he said, “ _let’s_ get something straight. Jared bought out my debt. He’s keeping me alive. I owe him. You and everyone else can go fuck yourselves. Got it?”

Chad squeaked out something that sounded like an agreement, so Jensen let him go.

Chad straightened his jacket and then glared at Jensen. “I’m gonna tell him you put hands on me.”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “You know what, kid? If threatening to tell on me is the worst you can come up with, I really don’t think you’re cut out for this life.”

Chad’s eyes narrowed. “Moose is my VP and you’re his property. Unlike you, I respect the rules.”

Jensen bristled. He was nobody’s fucking property, no matter what that tattoo said. He was prepared to concede that he owed Jared, but the guy didn’t fucking own him.

Chad obviously believed he couldn’t touch Jensen without incurring Jared’s wrath though, so Jensen decided to fuck with him. He pasted on his best sultry smile and said, his voice low, “Well then maybe I’ll just tell him that you came on to me. Tried to touch what wasn’t yours.”

Chad took a step back, looking thoroughly horrified. “Dude. I’m all about pussy. He’d never believe you.”

Jensen rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Okay, look. I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he stuck his hand out. “Hi, I’m Jensen. Jared says you’re a good guy.”

Chad eyed him suspiciously for a moment and then cautiously shook his hand. “Chad,” he said. “You can call me Squint. Moose and me, we’ve been tight since middle school, so don’t fuck him over or I’ll fuck you over.”

Privately, Jensen thought he would really like to see him try, but he was trying to smooth things over so he didn’t mention that, merely told Chad to lead on.

Chad gave him a brain bucket and told him to hold on tight, but not in a gay way, and Jensen rolled his eyes and hoped to Christ that Squint didn’t kill them both.

He pulled his bandana up over his mouth and nose after the first block and when they arrived at their destination Chad raised an eyebrow.

“Trying to make a statement Jenny?”

“Yeah,” Jensen pulled the bandana down. “I don’t like swallowing insects and road grit.”

The building in front of them had been Jensen’s home-away-from-home eight, nine years ago and Jensen swallowed back the barrage of memories that being here triggered. The place itself didn’t look any different; just a bland shop front with neon signage in the heart of Koreatown.

The building was bigger on the inside than the shopfront would have you believe. It was dark and smoky and the floor was lined with row after row of pool tables. At one end of the long hall there was a partitioned-off area which held the bar, with a bunch of booths and small tables in front of it; the restrooms, the jukebox, a cigarette machine and a couple of ATMs.

Behind the bar, stocking up the fridge, was Johnny Gok; seven years greyer than when Jensen last saw him, but unmistakable. He looked up when Jensen and Chad walked in and did a double take when Jensen got closer to the bar.

“Well fuck,” he said. “D-Dawg? Is that you?” he slid a hesitant sideways glance at Chad and Jensen could almost hear him wondering if there was going to be trouble.

“In the flesh,” Jensen said. “But you can call me Jensen.”

Johnny frowned. “Jensen?”

“Long boring story. Bottom line, I’m back and looking to play a little pool.”

Johnny looked at Chad. “You square with these boys?”

Chad threw an arm around Jensen’s shoulders. “Yeah. He’s good.”

Johnny rubbed a thoughtful hand over his chin. “I don’t want any trouble with HellSpawn,” he said.

“You won’t get any,” Chad vouched. “Jenny here is Moose’s boy.”

Jensen didn’t miss the look of distaste that flickered across Johnny’s face. It was subtle, but it was there. It wasn’t like the Korean didn’t know that Jensen was gay, and it wasn’t that he had a problem with it per se; it just made him uncomfortable to think of two men together. Which Jensen knew because Johnny had told him as much one evening over Tequila shots.

“So don’t fucking think about it, you pervert,” Jensen had retorted. “You don’t try to imagine my sex life and I won’t try to imagine yours,” he’d shuddered. “Old person sex. Gross.”

Jensen got his head back in the present in time to hear Chad coldly ask Johnny if he had a problem. He put a hand to the Prospect’s arm and reassured him that Johnny was an okay guy.

At Happy Gok’s Pool Hall there were round robin tournaments held every Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday night. To take part you needed either a UPA or WPA ranking or good stats at Gok’s.

Once upon a time Jensen had been the number one player at Gok’s, but that was over seven years ago now and he had to build up his standing again.

He spent the afternoon playing against rank amateurs and beating them easily. Jared turned up a little after six pm with four boxes of pizza and Jensen took a break. They went and sat in one of the booths, ate their pizza and drank beer. Jensen had one beer and then switched to soda. A handful of halfway decent players turned up as afternoon turned to evening, and Jensen watched them from a distance.

“Give me some cash,” he said to Jared. Jared handed over a fistful of twenties and Jensen put them in his wallet before heading back over to the tables. Jared stayed in the booth with Chad.

Jensen’s target was an older black man, tall and well-built with salt and pepper in his hair. Jensen watched his target beat his opponent easily and then asked the man if he’d like a game.

The man eyed him up and down suspiciously. “Where’s your cue?”

“Back home in Texas,” Jensen let his twang off leash. “I’m good man, worth your while, I promise.”

The man studied Jensen for a moment and then nodded. “Name’s Steve,” he said, sticking out a hand.

“Jensen.”

He picked one of the Pool Hall’s cues from the rack on the wall, tested the balance and then chalked the tip.

Jensen allowed himself to lose the game, but made sure that it was close. Steve was impressed and three of the other decent players who Jensen had noted earlier came across to test their mettle against him. He beat all of them, in exciting, closely fought matches.

“You should come back tomorrow,” Steve said. He explained to Jensen about the Club’s tournaments. “Come early, play off against some of us,” Steve gestured at himself and the other good players, “you might score yourself a wild card entry.”

Jensen grinned. “Sounds awesome. I’d love that.”

Jared and Chad had stayed well out of the way while Jensen was playing and they slipped outside while Jensen was having a drink at the bar with Steve and the other players.

Jensen made his excuses after two beers and headed after Jared. He was barely out the front door when Jared grabbed him and dragged him into the laneway. Jared shoved him up hard against a rough red-brick wall that was littered with black graffiti tags, his forearm at Jensen’s throat.

“Did you like that?” he snarled. “Flirting with all those guys? Shoving your ass at them?”

Jensen gaped at him. “Are you trashed?”

The pressure on his throat increased slightly and Jensen started to get pissed.

“Really? You’re actually gonna do this? I’m a _hustler_ , Jared. Flirty is my default setting.”

Jared scowled. “You weren’t hustling those guys. You were just playing.”

“Right. Trying to convince them I was worth a wild card entry into tomorrow’s tournament. I was schmoozing.”

Jared raised his eyebrows. “Did you seriously just say _schmoozing_?”

Jensen rolled his eyes.

Jared eased off his throat and instead put his hands flat against the wall, on either side of Jensen’s head.

“Why were you wiggling your ass so much, then?”

Jensen bit at his bottom lip and pulled out his most seductive smile. “Oh, baby, were you jealous?”

Jared’s eyes darkened and not in a good way. The biker was seriously pissed and Jensen backtracked quickly. “I only did that when I knew you were looking,” he reached out and wrapped his arms around Jared’s waist. “I mean, all the guys I was playing with? Totally straight. Steve’s been married to his wife for thirty years. I was just…making sure you had something interesting to look at.”

“You were teasing me?” Jared still didn’t look happy, but he looked a lot less angry.

Jensen made his pupils dilate and his tongue dart out to swipe at his lips. “It’s only teasing if you don’t plan on following through.”

Jared moved cobra fast, and Jensen only just managed to get his hands up to stop himself from hitting the wall face first when the biker spun him around.

“Fucking _tease_ ,” Jared insisted, his breath warm and wet against the shell of Jensen’s ear.

“What are you gonna do about it?” Jensen asked, a little breathlessly.

A moment later Jensen’s jeans and briefs were down and his legs had been kicked apart.

At least Jared undid the button and the zip this time.

A click and a squelch and Jensen hissed as Jared pressed two slick fingers against his swollen rim. His ass felt tender and raw and Jensen was pretty sure it was going to hurt when Jared fucked him, but his stupid dick was still wildly enthusiastic about the idea.

“You always carry lube?” he asked.

“Be prepared,” Jared replied solemnly and then thrust his slick fingers up inside of Jensen.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jensen leaned into the wall, “I don’t think that’s how the Boy Scout salute goes.

“Right,” Jared agreed, finding Jensen’s prostate and pressing against it. “Would’ve needed three fingers for that.”

Jensen huffed as Jared pulled his fingers out and put on a condom. “Like you were ever a Boy Scout.”

“I was,” Jensen felt the sheathed head of Jared’s dick press against his opening. “One of my foster dads was a Scout Leader. He made me join,” he shoved himself up into Jensen. “Sick fucker he was too.”

“Explains a lot,’ Jensen panted. His eyes were closed against the burn and his cheek was scraping against the brick as Jared rocked into him, hard and fast.

Jensen got a hand on his dick and began to stroke.

“I say you could touch that?” Jared growled.

“Nope,” Jensen kept stroking himself.

“Don’t come until I say you can,” Jared said darkly.

“And if I do?”

“Got a cock cage in my toy box. I’ll make you wear it for a week, cock all soft and useless, locked up tight with a steel ring around your balls.”

Jensen groaned and fisted himself faster.

“You won’t be able to get hard,” Jared’s voice was coal-black now, low and raspy. “And I won’t let you come. But I’ll tease your cock head and finger your hole until you’re desperate, until every nerve ending in your body’s on fire and you need to come so badly that you’ve got tears running down your cheeks, pretty green eyes liquid with hurt.”

“ _Fuck_!”

With every ounce of willpower that he had, Jensen took his hand off his dick and put it back against the wall. He was _so_ turned on by Jared’s words, right on the edge, but he had a horrible suspicion that Jared wasn’t just talking dirty, that he’d actually do the things he was promising so darkly to do. And Jensen wasn’t sure he could actually handle that.

“Good boy,” Jared said and came hard.

He pulled out and yanked Jensen’s pants up.

“ _What_?” Jensen spun around. “You _fucker_. Don’t you dare leave me like this!”

Jared’s smile was anything but reassuring. “We’re gonna go home now. The ride back’s gonna be such a bitch for you, what with the motor vibrating against your balls. Better make sure you don’t come or I’ll put the cage on you the moment we get home.”

Jensen gaped at him. “I fucking hate you,” he said as he did up his pants, careful not to touch his dick.

Jared leaned forward and kissed him, hard and possessive. “If you’re good for me tonight, I’ll let you come before we go to sleep.”

Jensen glared. Jared handed him a helmet with an evil smile and Jensen just knew that the biker was going to hit every pot hole he could on the way home.

\--

Jensen wasn’t going down to the Pool Hall until five o’clock and Jared had promised to take him. Right now though, the VP was out, not at work—or at least not at MorningStar Motors, anyway. Jared was taking care of some Club business. One of the bookies who worked for them had been skimming the profits and reporting less to the Club than he was actually making. Unfortunately for him, Mark Sheppard was a whiz with numbers and he’d been found out.

Truthfully, Jensen was a little pissed that Jared had turned down Jensen’s offer to come and help. He was good in a fight and it hurt—maybe more than it should have—that Jared didn’t trust Jensen to have his back.   

So Jensen sulked. And smoked. And occasionally jerked off into a wad of Kleenex whenever he thought about the sex marathon he and Jared’d had the previous night.

Jared had edged him for hours and what Jensen was starting to learn, was that he really fucking liked it, so long as he got to come eventually. And it wasn’t like Jared didn’t have to wait too. He’d been rock hard the entire time he’d been teasing Jensen, but he hadn’t come either. Not until he’d fucked Jensen. And boy, had their orgasms been worth the wait.

Jensen sighed. This waiting around was fucking bullshit. He was so bored. He went and played with the dogs for a bit, but there was only so much exciting yipping and drooling that he could take before the fact that he was getting covered in dog hair started to get annoying.

Jensen washed carefully and then decided to call Chris. Chris was pleased to hear from him and reassured him that he hadn’t had any trouble, either from Jensen’s dad or from anyone else.

They chatted for a while, about nothing in particular and then Jensen told Chris that he’d met a guy. “I ain’t saying it’s _something_ ,” he said, “but the sex is fucking awesome.”

“Is he a good guy?” Chris asked.

Jensen laughed. Jared Padalecki could never be described as a _good guy,_ but Jensen couldn’t bring himself to say that he was a bad guy either.

“I dunno, Chris,” he said. “But…I think maybe I could like him.”

Mid-afternoon there was a knock on the front door and Jensen actually caught himself hoping that Chad had decided to visit, which just went to show how utterly bored he was.

He opened the door to reveal Mark Sheppard and a very short red-haired woman.

“Crossroads,” he said, the surprise showing in his voice.

Sheppard ran his eyes over Jensen. “If Jared is Moose, then I suppose you’d better be Squirrel.”

Jensen’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m not a member. I didn’t think I rated a nickname.”

“Oh laddie,” the woman said, reaching up and patting Jensen’s cheek. “Jared’s crazy aboot you. You rate whatever ye want to rate.” She had a strong Scottish accent and Jensen could’ve listened to her talk all day.

“Now,” she fixed him with a stern look. “Are ye gonnie invite us in for a cuppa or are we gonnie stand on the door step all day?”

Jensen blinked. “Um. Sure,” he stepped back and widened the door. “Come in.”

Ruthie and Crossroads stepped past him and made themselves at home in the living room.

“I’ll have tea, Dearie,” Ruthie said. “With milk and one sugar.

Jensen checked in the cupboard and found a box of tea.

“What about you?” he asked Sheppard.

“Brought my own,” the Brit said.

Jensen made Ruthie’s tea and snagged himself a beer. Sheppard was sipping from a silver flask and smoking a fat cigar.

Jensen lit a Marlboro.

“I hear you’ve got yourself a wee tattoo,” Ruthie said.

Jensen nodded.

Ruthie smiled, her face scrunching up. “Can I see it?”

Jensen twisted around and then lifted his tee-shirt.

“Well now,” Ruthie said and Jensen wasn’t quite sure what to make of her tone. “The girls said, but I wanted to see it for myself,” she grinned. “Alaina’s nae gonnie like this.”

“Why not?”

Ruthie cackled. “Oh Darlin’, that tattoo marks you out as the Queen in Waiting.”

Jensen choked on his beer.

When he’d done coughing, Ruthie leaned in close and said, “And that makes you a threat.”

She looked positively delighted.

\--

When Jared got home, he and Sheppard had an intense, hushed conversation out in the backyard, while Jensen scowled at them and chain-smoked. Ruthie sat prettily and stared vacantly out the window and Jensen wondered how it didn’t drive her absolutely crazy being excluded from all the important stuff.

Ruthie caught his pensive expression and smiled wickedly. “Lip readin’, Darlin’,” she said. “Useful skill. You should learn it.”

Jensen harrumphed. He would prefer just to be told things, but he guessed that if he had to be sneaky, he could do that.

“So what happened? What did Jared have to do?”

Ruthie cocked her head and looked down her nose at him with her eyes narrowed. “Nothing good. Are you really sure you want to know?”

Jensen met her gaze head on. “I dunno what you’ve heard about me, but I used to be HeyDay’s apprentice.”

“Oh, I know, Darlin. And when the goin’ got tough, you pinched a bag of money and ran.”

“I got no problem busting heads. But torturing an innocent person to put pressure on a guilty one?” Jensen shook his head. “Especially when you know that person doesn’t know anything anyway. I knew. HeyDay knew. He kept going because he _wanted_ to. That’s why I took off.”   

Ruthie held Jensen’s gaze and then gave him a small smile. “Well then,” she said. “Moose was able to recover just over half of the money that the bookie stole and he took several expensive paintings and pieces of jewelry to try to recoup the rest. And then he garrotted him. Squint’s on clean-up.”

Jensen nodded and tried not to let his emotions show on his face. He’d known intellectually that Jared was a killer, could even accept the occasional necessity of putting a bullet in someone’s head, but he hadn’t expected Jared to be so hands-on. A garrotting seemed so personal.

“What was the bookie’s name?” he asked.

“Sterling Brown,” Ruthie replied.

Jared and Sheppard came into the house and Jared went straight to their room to get changed.

Jensen waited a beat and then followed him.

“You okay?” he asked, picking up Jared’s discarded clothes and inspecting them for blood. There wasn’t any. Jensen frowned. Jared must’ve changed at the scene. Worn overalls or something.

Jared cocked his head. “You _know_.” He frowned. “Ruthie told you,” he shook his head. “That woman, she always knows everything. I swear she’s a mind reader or a witch or—”

“Or a really smart woman who could be really helpful to the Club if y’all could get over your sexism?”

Jensen could see Jared gearing up for an argument on the subject, so he forestalled him. “The thing with the bookie…do you wanna talk about it?”

Jared turned away. He switched the water on and stood with his back to Jensen while it heated up. “Me and Sterling, we had history. He,” Jared faltered. “He wasn’t a good man. I’m not sorry I killed him.” He stepped into the steaming water and Jensen watched from the other side of the glass as Jared tipped his head back and soaped himself up.

“You want some help in there?” Jensen asked.

“I’m good.”

Which meant he really wasn’t, because in the four days that Jensen had known him, Jared had never once turned down sex.

“Okay,” Jensen took another moment to appreciate the gloriousness of naked, wet Jared, and then turned. “I’ll see you out there.”

He headed for the door, but stopped when Jared called his name.

“Thanks,” Jared said. “For…you know.”

“Sure,” Jensen said and went back out to the living room.

\--

Jared didn’t want the Club’s reputation to interfere in any way with Jensen’s pool playing, so Jared and Sheppard were incognito; no cuts, no colors, no patches.  Not even soft colors. Jared was in baggy blue jeans, a grey NASA tee-shirt (giant geek) and a grey hoodie.  Mark looked like an accountant in black pants and a white button-down shirt and Ruthie was wearing a tight, blood-red dress with a plunging neckline and a lot of make-up. She’d actually tried to drag Jensen into the bathroom earlier to put eyeliner on him, but he’d managed to fight her off. Jensen didn’t care how much eyeliner would ‘make his gorgeous big green eyes pop’; he didn’t do make-up.

Jensen was going to have to buy some new clothes soon, because he only had four outfits, in total. Today he was wearing dark blue denim jeans and a light blue chambray shirt, which looked very nice on him, if he did say so himself, but he was really starting to miss the extensive wardrobe he had back home. Jensen liked clothes. He liked to look good. So what?

Steve, Jensen’s buddy from yesterday was already at a table when Jensen’s party arrived. He looked up just as they walked in and Jensen smiled and waved. He felt Jared stiffen beside him and a moment later the biker’s arm snaked around his waist and pulled him close.

“Would you like to piss on me too?” Jensen said from behind a clenched smile.

Jared laughed. “Not one of my kinks.”

Before Jensen could respond, Jared pulled him around and kissed him very thoroughly, one hand gripping his hair, the other gripping his ass.

Jensen wanted to be pissed at the show of dominance, but the way Jared’s tongue was plundering his mouth was just too fucking good.  When Jared finally pulled away, Jensen’s face was flushed and his pupils were blown wide.

“Bastard,” he said, a little breathlessly.

“You love it,” Jared smirked at him, and then backed away and joined Sheppard and Ruthie at a booth in the bar area.

Jensen wiped his thumb over his lips and then made his way over to the tables.

Two of the men who were watching Steve play gave Jensen very unfriendly looks as he approached. Jensen nodded at them and smiled sunnily. The men turned their backs.

Steve pocketed the black. He shook hands with his opponent and then came across and slapped Jensen on the back. “Good to see you again,” he said. He looked over to where Jared was sitting with Ruthie, while Sheppard ordered them all drinks at the bar.

“That’s your fella, huh?”   

Jensen rubbed at the back of his head. “Uh, yeah. Sorry about the…display before.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You think I’m a bigot like those clowns?” he nodded toward the men who’d turned their backs on Jensen earlier. “I don’t care who you love, son.”

Jensen smiled. “Well that’s good to know, but I actually meant the whole ‘marking my territory’, caveman display. Jared can be…over-protective.”

Steve studied him for a moment. “Do you mean over-protective? Or do you mean controlling and dominating?”

“That too,” Jensen agreed. “But not in a bad way. I wouldn’t put up with that.”

“Okay,” Steve picked up a piece of chalk and began to apply it to the tip of his cue. “We gonna play?”

“Hell, yeah,” Jensen selected a cue of his own and followed suit.

Steve broke and pocketed two solids. “Just so’s you know,” he said, “if things change and you need help, you can talk to me.”

“Thanks,” Jensen said, and then proceeded to beat Steve fairly comprehensively so that the man would stop thinking of him as some kind of abuse victim, because Jensen really wouldn’t put up with that shit.

He wouldn’t.

Jensen hadn’t actually been planning to beat Steve until a tournament, but he supposed it didn’t really matter. This wasn’t a hustle. It didn’t matter if the opposition knew he was good. And at least the win got him the wild card invitation to the evening’s tournament that he’d been after.

The entry fee was $50.00.

Which he had to get from Jared.

Which Steve totally noticed.

Jensen thought about what Ruthie had said earlier, about Jared being crazy about him, and decided that he really needed to start exploiting that.

After all, apparently he was the Queen in waiting. Jensen snorted softly and shook his head. Well, he could certainly pull off high maintenance Drama Queen; especially if Jared was going to keep being a caveman.


	4. Chapter 4

Jensen woke up to find Jared pushing his legs apart and decided to implement Operation Drama Queen. He lifted his head from the pillow, twisted his torso and punched Jared squarely in the balls.

Jared yelled and threw himself sideways which caused him to fall off the bed. He rolled on the floor clutching his groin and moaning.

“Fuck, Jen!”

“No,” Jensen said, turning to face Jared. “There will be no _fucking Jen_ for a few days. My ass needs a rest, unless you want me to start needing diapers. And if that’s one of your kinks, I’ll shoot you on principle.”

Jared managed to sit up. He pouted at Jensen and did his very best lost puppy expression.

“Not gonna work, Jare. This ass is closed for business.”

“Fine,” Jared grumbled. “I’ll settle for a blow job.”

If the way Jared’s face suddenly paled was any indication, Jensen’s expression was suitably thunderous.

“You’ll _settle_ for a blow job?” he said icily. “My blow jobs are _five fucking star_ blow jobs! They are not something you _settle_ for. They are something you _praise_ _God on a daily fucking basis_ that you are lucky enough to be getting! And if you _don’t_ appreciate them, maybe you’ll need to _settle_ for a week of me sleeping in the spare room!”

“I do appreciate them, I do!” Jared said earnestly, scrambling up onto his knees and crawling forward so that his face was only inches from Jensen’s.

“Good,” Jensen smiled at him warmly. “Now go and get ready for work. Some of us are trying to sleep.

Jared’s face fell. “But…blow job?”

Jensen scowled at him. “It’s six o’clock in the Goddamn morning. If you’re horny, jerk off in the shower like a normal person. Now go away,” Jensen waved a hand at him. “I need my beauty sleep.”

He closed his eyes and pretended to have settled back into sleep. In reality every cell of his being was tensed and ready and all of his senses were straining to detect Jared’s next move.

Jared sighed. “Fine,” he said. “Fucking drama queen.”

Jensen heard the stomp of footsteps and then the hiss of the shower running and then he relaxed slightly.

He rolled onto his back, folded his arms beneath his head and stared up at the ceiling. Even though he himself had named this play ‘Operation Drama Queen’, the fact that Jared actually thought he _was_ a drama queen for refusing to have sex was pissing him off. A person should always have autonomy over their own body. Jensen was all up for playing around with power exchanges and consent. The operative words being _playing around._ Jared though, seemed to legitimately believe that he was entitled to do whatever he wanted to Jensen and Jensen had been having too much fun with the admittedly awesome sex to set him straight on that.

If he were honest with himself, he’d also been a little worried that Jared might hand him over to Pellegrino to get shot if he wasn’t compliant, but he no longer believed that Jared would do that. Rachel and Ruthie were right. Jared had a giant crush on him. He wanted Jensen to stick around. And that gave Jensen some power. Looking at their… relationship, for want of a better word…through Steve’s eyes yesterday (the way Steve had looked at him sadly when he’d been expected to hand over his winnings to Jared) had been the push Jensen needed to realize that he had to set Jared straight, and soon.

The shower stopped and Jensen rolled back onto his stomach, because it was easier to hide his face like that.

Soon there was more foot stomping and the noise of drawers and cupboards being thrown open and slammed shut. Jensen continued to feign sleep. And he snored obnoxiously loudly to let Jared know that he was sleeping _just fine_ through all his noise. 

After Jared had gone, Jensen went back to sleep for real and woke up again a little after nine am.

It was Saturday morning and Jared had said that he would be back from work at around lunchtime. Jensen sat up, lit a cigarette and planned his day. And then he showered, dressed, made himself breakfast and called Chris for a chat.  

Around eleven o’clock, he put the next stage of Operation Drama Queen into play. He dialled Jared’s cell phone number. Repeatedly. Until Jared answered.

“What’s wrong?” Jared said when he picked up.

“I’m bored,” Jensen whined.

“I’m working, Jensen.”

“I know. And you won’t let me go anywhere without you or an official escort, so I’m stuck in your tiny apartment with nothing to do!”

Jensen wanted to see how far he could push things. Would Jared ditch work and come home? Would he give Jensen permission to go out and do something fun by himself?

“Take the dogs for a walk,” Jared said, and hung up on him.

Well fuck. That was like being assigned chores.

Jensen rang Jared back, but the call went straight through to voicemail. 

Jensen thought about going out anyway, but Jared had told him in no uncertain terms that if he went out without permission he wouldn’t like the consequences. Jensen’s traitorous dick twitched as he remembered the last punishment Jared had dished out to him. Truthfully, he’d kind of enjoyed it, but he wasn’t really keen to get into the kinky stuff with Jared again until they’d gotten some safe words in place.

Jensen looked out the window at the dogs. They both had sad, pleading eyes just like their daddy. Jensen sighed.

“You’re lucky I’m bored,” he told them as he got their leads out.

The dogs yipped and danced and nearly knocked him over in their enthusiasm.

Not only did they have eyes like their daddy, they also didn’t care much for the word ‘no’—just like their daddy. Jensen was dragged into trashcans and down dirty alleys. He was jerked down the street after cats and other dogs. After the third time Harley tried to drag him into oncoming traffic—chasing God knows what—Jensen decided to head for home. So of course, Sadie decided she needed to take a crap; right on some old woman’s front lawn.

“You take that shit with you, young man,” the woman yelled, coming out onto her front stoop and waving a walking stick at him. “Where’s your poop-scoop? Don’t you leave that shit on my lawn!”

Jensen fled.

When he got back to Jared’s apartment, Jared was already home.

“Why didn’t you take the poop-scoop?” he asked when Jensen walked in.

Jensen scowled. “Well if you’d told me I needed to take it instead of hanging up on me, I would’ve. I got yelled at. By a really angry old black woman. It’s not funny, Jared.” Jensen dumped the dogs’ leads and let them go and knock Jared over with their excitement and enthusiasm.

“It’s a little funny,” Jared said, as he hugged the mutts and then wrangled them into the back yard with a skill that Jensen had yet to develop.

“You need to take me shopping,” Jensen said once Jared was back inside.

Jared raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Jensen stalked right up to Jared and got in his face. “I have four outfits, Jared. Four. And you broke the button on my best jeans and your filthy mutts knocked over a bunch of trash cans and I got disgusting smelly garbage all over these jeans. I need more clothes.”

Jared raised an eyebrow. “Wash those jeans. Sew the button back on the other ones.”

Jensen’s mouth fell open. “I don’t _sew_! And I can’t survive with only four outfits.”

“Sure you can,” Jared said easily.

Jensen produced an epic bitchface. “You bought out my debt because you think I’m a hot piece of ass. And I am,” Jensen stripped off his leather jacket and ran his hands seductively over his torso. Jared licked his lips. “But it takes effort to look this good,” Jensen said, prowling with sensual intent toward Jared. “I need more clothes. And some decent hair product.”

Jared swallowed hard. He looked hungrily at Jensen’s nipples, visible through his tight white tee-shirt and then made a very obvious effort to look away.

When he looked back at Jensen, the heat in his eyes was banked and his lips were a thin flat line. “I’m not rich, Jen,” he said tightly, his shoulders rigid with tension. “Unlike you I’ve never had a billionaire Daddy to give me a Black Amex. I’ve had to work real fucking hard for every cent I’ve ever earned.  And you know what I did with my savings, Jen? I gave every cent I had to The Beast so that he wouldn’t put a bullet in your brain. And even then, it wasn’t enough. I still owe him thirty grand. Which is why I had to give him the prize money you won. So don’t start asking me to buy you shit. I ain’t your sugar Daddy and you ain’t my kept boy.”

It hadn’t actually occurred to Jensen to wonder how Jared had managed to buy out his debt. He had, after all, stolen one hundred thousand dollars from Pellegrino, and Jensen might have been guilty as charged on the billionaire Daddy front, but he _was_ aware that was a lot of money. And Jared was younger than he was, and a foster kid. And okay, sure, he was also the VP of an outlaw bikers’ club and no doubt had some ill-gotten gains to supplement his regular income, but still, one hundred grand was a lot of money.

Jensen dropped the attempt at seductive manipulation immediately.

“Okay,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Firstly, thank you. I don’t think I said that yet. I appreciate the lack of bullet in my brain. Secondly, the way you’ve been demanding sex, you can see what I’d be a little confused on the whole ‘kept boy’ issue. And thirdly, I have money. I don’t actually need yours. In fact, I could give you the thirty grand you still owe Pellegrino if you want.”

Jared shook his head. “Your daddy cut off all your credit cards, remember?”

Jensen smirked. “Yeah. But you didn’t seriously think I wasn’t prepared for that, did you? I’ve got my own bank account that my parents know nothing about.”

Jared sat down on the arm of the sofa and folded his arms across his chest. “Is that where you put the money you stole?”

Jensen crossed to sit in the armchair opposite Jared. “Yeah. Not all of it. I put most of it in there, a bit at a time over a few years so I wouldn’t get tripped up by the anti-money laundering laws in the Patriot Act. And some of it I gave to people.”

“People?” Jared raised an eyebrow.

Jensen got out his cigarettes and lit up. “Yeah. People.”

“Lovers?” Jared said teasingly.

Jensen drew back and then shook his head.  

“Then who? C’mon Jen. You look embarrassed. Who’d you give it do? Nuns? Hookers? Who?”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “The household staff, if you must know.”

Jared’s eyes widened. “Household staff.” he echoed.

Jensen could feel his cheeks flushing. “Kind of comes with the whole ‘billionaire’ territory. Only my parents are assholes, so they hire illegal immigrants and underpay them and treat them like shit, and still expect them to be grateful. I just…paid out some Christmas bonuses to try and make things a bit fairer.”

Jared burst out laughing. “Fuck me,” he said. “You’re like Robin Hood! Steal from the rich, give to the poor.”

“Yeah, fuck you,” Jensen said. “I’d look good in tights and a tunic.”

Jared sniggered. “I dunno…those legs are pretty bowed.”

Jensen took a final drag on his smoke and then butted it out in the over-flowing and ever present ashtray.

“So are we going shopping?”

Jared’s expression became pained. “Yeah. It’s not really my thing. But you can go.”

“Really? But you said I couldn’t go out of your apartment without you or an escort.”

Jared’s look was suddenly sharp. “And you’re a hardass with a reputation for not doing what he’s told, so why didn’t you just say _fuck that I’m outta here_?”

Jensen chewed at his lip. “Maybe I thought that if I gave you too much shit you might hand me back to Pellegrino for that bullet,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “And maybe I kind of get off on you being bossy.”

“Oh, really?” Jared’s smile was smug. “In that case, there’s something I want you to do.”

Jensen narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“I want you to buy yourself a pair of red, lacy panties. And I want you to change into them while you’re out and wear them home.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me?”

“No” Jared stood up and close the gap between them with a step. He leaned forward, one hand cupping the back of Jensen’s head, the other cupping his crotch. “You were right before. I’m very attracted to your hot ass and your gorgeous, sexy dick.”

Jared drew his thumb across the head of Jensen’s rapidly chubbing dick and Jensen couldn’t help spreading his legs a little wider.

Jared smiled knowingly. “Just think,” he said. “How much hotter and sexier your ass and your dick and your balls are gonna look when they’re being held tight by pretty lacy panties.”

Jensen pushed up against Jared’s hand; he couldn’t help himself. “Lace is scratchy,” he said, a little breathlessly, wrinkling his nose.

Jared smiled wolfishly. “Don’t pretend you’re not gonna get off on that. You like things a little rough,” his grip on Jensen’s hair tightened and stroked Jensen in earnest, until Jensen was sure he was only seconds away from coming in his pants. And then he gripped Jensen’s ball sac and twisted hard.

“Ow!” Jensen yelled, trying to pull away. “You _fucker_. That hurt.”

“Are you gonna buy yourself some pretty red panties for me, Jen?”

Jensen scowled. “What happens if I refuse?”

“Well,” Jared let go of him and Jensen adjusted himself subtly. His dick had gone mostly soft and his balls were throbbing with pain. “If you refuse I’ll just have to find some other way of making your ass red.”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll buy and wear panties for you. Happy now?”

Jared grinned. “Ecstatic.” He stretched and Jensen watched as his Henley rode up exposing his flat, toned stomach. “I’m gonna go take a shower; get the smell of motor oil off me. I’ll see you and your sexy panties later.”

Once Jared had disappeared into the shower, Jensen went and retrieved his duffel bag. He changed into clean jeans and then took out the hard plastic liner from the bottom of the duffel and pried open the slit that he’d made in it. He retrieved his debit card, bank-book and passport from inside the liner, and then he put the bank-book and passport on the nightstand where Jared would see it. He put the debit card in his wallet. 

And then he went and called a cab to take him to Rodeo Drive.

\--

To be honest, Jensen wasn’t really a huge fan of shopping. But he did like to look good and unfortunately, that meant shopping.

It was a little before five when Jensen got home and he was laden with bags, mostly from Armani, but a few from Versace as well. And stuffed inside one of the Armani bags was a tiny bag from Agent Provocateur, which currently contained his boxers.

Jared looked up from the sofa and shook his head at all the bags. Jensen smiled sunnily and went and dumped everything on the bed.

“Show me,” Jared said and Jensen nearly leapt out of his skin.

“Way to give a guy a heart attack,” he said. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”

“Show me,” Jared repeated. “I wanna see your panties.”

Jensen rolled his eyes and muttered _freak_ under his breath, but he dutifully undid his jeans and peeled them down just enough to reveal the side-tied, delicately trimmed lace panties. They had a floral pattern on open net tulle and were surprisingly soft. They looked good on him, if he did say so himself, even if the head of his very hard dick was peeping out of the top of them.

“Fuck,” Jared swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbling. “Strip. Everything off except the panties.”

What Jensen actually wanted right now was to sit down, put his feet up and have a beer and a cigarette; he’d been traipsing from store to store on Rodeo Drive for several hours and his feet were killing him. On the other hand, getting mostly naked did seem to hold the promise of an orgasm in the very near future and his dick was definitely on board with that idea. Besides, once he’d stripped, Jensen figured he’d end up horizontal pretty quickly so he moved his shopping bags to the floor and then got undressed.

Once Jensen was standing beside the bed wearing nothing but the skimpy pair of red lacy panties, Jared twirled his finger to indicate that Jensen should turn around. He swore with quiet reverence as he palmed Jensen’s ass, and then he pressed his dick against Jensen’s crack before reaching around to rub his hand over Jensen’s lace-clad dick.

“Can I tie you to the bed?” Jared whispered in his ear.

Jensen nodded. “Yeah. Just. No ass stuff.”

Jared looked disappointed, but agreed.

Jensen climbed onto the bed and spread his arms and legs like a star. Jared strapped him down and then went to work on his dick, sucking and licking at it through the lace until the panties were sodden with both Jared’s saliva and Jensen’s pre-come.

“Gonna open my present now,” Jared said and Jensen lifted his head to watch as Jared slowly undid the bows in the side of the panties and slid them off him. He sucked Jensen down  to the root, but held his hips so that Jensen couldn’t thrust, just had to take it exactly how Jared chose to give it to him. Because Jared was a teasing teaser who teased, he pulled off just as Jensen was about to come and then moved up the bed and straddled Jensen’s head, facing his feet.

“Can I?” he said.

“Yeah.”

Jensen tipped his head back and opened his mouth and Jared thrust straight down his throat, gag-reflex be damned. Jensen relaxed his throat and breathed through his nose every time Jared pulled back. He wished there was some way he could get some pressure on his dick, because being used like this, having his face so thoroughly fucked, left him almost delirious with pleasure. Jensen’s need for exactly this was something his regular hook-up Ryan had never understood. None of his hook-ups back home ever really had and even Dr Ferris had thought it was something pathological. Maybe it was. Maybe there was something wrong with him. Or maybe it was the rest of the world that was fucked up.

By the time Jared pulled out and came all over Jensen’s chest, Jensen was in a dazed stupor.  When Jared leaned forward and took Jensen’s dick back in his mouth he came almost immediately, causing Jared to turn sideways and spit.

“Gonna pick up those test results on Monday,” Jared said. “I hope we can do this bare after that.”

Jensen bucked up and tried to throw Jared off. “Get your giant ass outta my face,” he said, “and get me untied.”

Jared climbed off him and Jensen looked expectantly at the cuffs around his wrists.

“Ask nicely,” Jared purred, “or I’ll leave you like this until I’m ready to use you again.”

Jensen glowered. “We need to have a conversation about safe words. I’m done playing and I need to pee. Now untie me.”

Jared’s eyes narrowed. “Fine,” he said, and undid the cuffs around Jensen’s wrists and ankles.

He turned away as Jensen got up and when Jensen got back from the bathroom, Jared had obviously dressed and left the bedroom.

Jensen put the red panties back on because Jared really seemed to like them and then he changed into one of his new outfits, a fabulous pair of light-colored ‘come fuck me’ jeans that really showed off his ass and a tight blue tee-shirt with the Armani logo on the front. He left his feet bare and ruffled up his hair.

Jared was in the kitchen, doing something at the counter with potatoes and tinfoil. He turned when Jensen entered the room and his jaw dropped.

“You look so fucking hot,” he said.

Jensen smiled and put his cigarettes and lighter down on the table before helping himself to a beer. “You want one?”

Jared said that he did, so Jensen opened one for him and handed it off.

“Thanks. I’m planning on firing up the grill. You like steak?”

Jensen sat down at the table and picked up his Marlboros and his lighter. “Dude, I’m from Texas.”

Jared nodded. “I am too, originally,” he said, getting an ashtray out from the cupboard under the sink and putting it on the table in front of Jensen. “Did you know that?”

Jensen shrugged and lit up. “Thought I heard a bit of a twang.”

He wasn’t sure if it was an invitation to talk about Jared’s past or not and decided not to prod, to leave it up to Jared to tell him anything he wanted to tell.

Jared turned back to the counter. “So I’m gonna do steak, jacket potatoes with bacon and sour cream and fire roasted cobs of corn for supper.”

“Okay,” Jensen said.

Jared’s back was rigid and he was focused on the jacket potatoes he was preparing.

“Look, I…” he sighed. “I’m a toppy bastard, ask anyone, but,” he stopped talking and then sighed again. “I’ve had a _major_ crush on you since I was fourteen. And getting to have you, Pellegrino telling me I _owned_ you,” he shook his head. “I mean, it seemed like you were really into it and…I’m good at reading people. And you _like_ me being bossy. But. I guess I’ve been kind of an asshole, telling you that you couldn’t go anywhere, and…I guess…I’m trying to apologize.”

Jensen snorted and ashed his cigarette. “Well you’re doing a piss-poor job of it. Apologies usually have less self-justification and more _I’m sorries._ ”

Jared turned around slowly and there were those beseeching puppy eyes again. God damn.

“I’m really sorry, Jensen,” he said earnestly. “I’ve been a selfish fucking asshole. Will you please forgive me?”

Jensen raised an eyebrow and took a long drag on his smoke. “You don’t get to tap my ass for one day and you fold like a cheap suit,” he shook his head and sighed.

Jared’s eyes narrowed, “Getting punched in the jewels sent a pretty strong message.”

He frowned. “Look, I know I’ve been an asshole, but I figured you were an asshole too, so it didn’t matter. Rich kid, out here slumming it for fun, stole from the Club, probably blew it all on hookers and blow. And then you’re back and you’re all tough and sexy and you _owe_ me,” he paused and took a deep breath. “But you’re not an asshole. The girls like you, even Ruthie, and you try to help people who need it and, okay, maybe you’ve been playing me a bit, but you threw me on my ass this morning and I saw your bank-book; you’ve got a fuckton of money. You could’ve taken me down and left whenever you wanted to, but you didn’t. And maybe you were scared we’d come after you and kill you, but, like I said, I’m good at reading people, and I don’t think that’s the main reason you stayed.”

Jensen lit another cigarette off the butt of the first. “What can I say? You’re hot and you’re good in the sack. And I was bored. Plus, I dunno, you’re kind of…interesting. Complicated. It’s…fun.”

Jared met and held his eyes. “So you’re planning on sticking around?”

“Yeah.”

“Traffic light system work for you?”

Jensen frowned. “What? Are you talking safe words? Red means stop, green means go?”

Jared nodded.

“Sure. That works. So. You looked at my bank-book.”

Jared nodded. “We didn’t find it when we went through all your stuff, so you had it well hidden. I figured that if you didn’t want me to look at it, you would’ve just kept it hidden.”

Jensen inclined his head, because that was true enough. “I’m gonna go into a branch on Monday and get nine grand out for you. That’s under the anti-money laundering cap so no-one’ll look at it twice. I’ll get cash out for you every week until that thirty grand you owe Pellegrino is paid off and then I’ll start paying you back the seventy grand you already shelled out for me.”

“Buying your freedom, huh?”

“I think we established that I already have my freedom, Jay. I just don’t wanna be in debt to you.”

The sentence felt like it needed a grand exit, so Jensen went and hid in the bathroom for a little while.

When he finally went back to the kitchen, Jared asked him to help take everything out to the grill, and they sat outside with the dogs, sipping on their beers and watching the flames.

Jared kept side-eyeing Jensen and eventually Jensen just told him to spit it out.

“You can tell me to fuck off,” Jared said, “because it ain’t really my business, but you said you’d never really had much of a job outside of hustling pool and playing poker, and I know you put most of the money you stole from us into that account, but there’s a fuck-ton of money in there. So you must’ve had a fucking big win.”

Jensen rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.  “Yeah. Not really.”

When Jensen had left home at eighteen to go to college, his parents had bought a two bedroom apartment for him, only several blocks from Stanford University. The moment the settlement went through, Jensen packed his things into his car and moved, several months before college was even due to start. He told his parents he needed time to get properly set up. He furnished the place on his parents’ dime and explored the local area. Palo Alto was a college town. It was full of people with money and college kids. It was boring as fuck. West Hollywood, on the other hand, was fun and Jensen made sure to get down there on a regular basis. He found the pool halls. The backroom poker games. He lost every type of virginity that he still had and he got his first tattoo.  He discovered cocaine.

He did try to stick around and attend classes when college started up, but it was boring. Jensen knew that he was never going to be happy following the path that his father had laid out for him. After a spectacular weekend spent drinking Tequila, snorting coke, having a lot of sex, and pointedly doing no work on the assignment that was due to be turned in on Monday, Jensen decided to run away. He sublet his apartment to some rich kid looking to move off-campus and opened a bank account for the money to be transferred into each month. He sold his car to a shady used car dealer and put the money from that into his new bank account too. And then he moved to West Hollywood and created Dean Winchester, naming himself after the first rifle he ever owned and his favorite movie star, James Dean.

Dean Winchester squatted with six others in a rundown warehouse just off Santa Monica Boulevard. He didn’t have rich parents. He hustled pool, gambled, fucked around with guys who could afford to buy him things, and eventually he got a job bussing tables at a bar, where he met Chris Heyerdahl, sergeant-at-arms for HellSpawn MC.  Soon after, he was able to afford to move into a shitty apartment in an area of West Hollywood that was mostly public housing.

Jensen’s goal was to support himself, to prove to himself that he could live just fine without his parents’ money. For the most part, he succeeded.

The spending money that his parents put into the bank account that they’d set up for him, he transferred regularly into his secret bank account and, along with the monthly rent from the guy who was subletting, the balance built steadily. Jensen rarely touched it.

Of course, eventually, his parents realized that he wasn’t living in the house they’d bought for him and wasn’t attending his classes at college, and the shit hit the fan. Jensen just dumped the phone and credit cards that his parents paid for and went completely off-the-grid. By that time, he was a HellSpawn prospect, HeyDay’s apprentice and he was doing very well for himself as Dean Winchester.

But he still had a safety net of nearly fifty grand in the bank and beneath that safety net was another one; the option to run home if things got too hard.

Which is exactly what he did. 

Jensen felt a little bit embarrassed, telling Jared about the years he’d spent playing at being a street kid, because Jared actually had been one; no safety net for him. 

For his part, Jared just seemed to find Jensen’s story entertaining.

“So what happened when you went back home?” he asked, shovelling the last mouthful of steak into his mouth. “Were they pissed? Did you have to grovel?”

Jensen went and dumped his plate in the sink and then got the whiskey and two glasses out of the cupboard.

“I stopped about a mile away from the house,” he said as he poured two generous serves of Jack Daniels, “and snorted three lines of coke. By the time I got home, I was high as a fucking kite and I skidded off my bike in the driveway. Lucia brought me inside. I was a fucking mess,” Jensen shook his head and took a long swallow of whiskey, relishing the burn. “My parents went with the whole ‘Jensen fell in with a bad crowd in California and got addicted to cocaine’ narrative. Their friends understood that. Rich kids developing coke habits ain’t exactly unheard of. So they shipped me off to a rehab facility in Switzerland.”

“Which is why Pellegrino couldn’t find you,” Jared said thoughtfully. “And your fifty odd grand just sat in your bank account earning interest.”

Jensen nodded. “And when I got out, I put some of the stolen money in it too. My parents barred me from getting cash advances on my Amex, but they didn’t care if I bought stuff. So I was generous with friends. Bought them expensive art and jewellery. And sometimes, I bought expensive art and jewellery and then sold it and put the cash in my account. And sometimes I sold…” Jensen broke off suddenly.

“Sold what?”

“Nothing.”

“Sold what, Jensen? Drugs? Were you dealing?”

Jensen shook his head. “I’m not stupid enough to do that. I know me. Someone gave me a stash to sell, I’d end up using it all. I keep away from that shit as much as I can.”

“So what then? Your ass? Were you standing on street corners?”

Jensen rolled his eyes and lit a cigarette. “Paintings, okay? I sold paintings.”

Jared frowned. “You already said that you bought and sold art.”

Jensen shook his head again. “My paintings. Paintings that I did.”

Jared raised his eyebrows. “You’re an artist?”

Jensen shrugged. “Wouldn’t go that far. I just…paint stuff.”

He swallowed down the rest of his whiskey and then poured himself another glass. He was supposed to be playing in another pool tournament tonight, but the trip down memory lane had left him feeling unsettled and besides, Jared was in a good mood and being friendly and charming and good company and Jensen was starting to feel like he was in an actual real relationship.

Over the course of the evening Jensen had far too much to drink and ended up letting Jared fuck him, because Jared had an awesome dick and Jensen really liked it being inside of him. He especially liked it when Jared held his wrists and pinned him face down against the bed. And he liked it even more when Jared pulled almost out, so that Jensen’s ass was pried wide open on the head of Jared’s fat dick, and then held himself _right there_ until Jensen begged brokenly to be fucked. When Jared finally fucked in, hard and deep, Jensen almost spontaneously combusted, and fuck it all, if they were going to keep fucking like bunnies he’d just have to start doing Kegels exercises, because this? This was too good to go without.

The next day Jared went out mid-morning, mumbling something about the club and business and Jensen decided he didn’t want to know, what with all the tom-toms pounding inside his skull, so he took a couple of Tylenol and went back to sleep.

By the time he finally surfaced it was almost three in the afternoon. He had coffee and a cigarette, some toast and then a shower.

Jared still wasn’t back so Jensen decided to head down to the pool hall. He figured that should be okay, given their discussions yesterday, but even so he sent Jared a quick text letting the biker know where he’d be.

Steve was playing a doubles game at one of the outer tables when Jensen arrived, so he strolled across to watch. Strolled with a slight hitch to his gait and damn if he couldn’t feel Steve assessing him from across the room.

Steve finished clearing the table and shook hands with his partner and his opponents and then turned and offered his hand to Jensen.

“You doin’ all right, son?”

“I’m good. You?”

“Oh, you know,” Steve smiled easily. “Gettin’ old. Still it’s better than the alternative, I guess. Where’s your entourage?”

“Just me today.”

Steve pursed his lips and looked like he wanted to pursue that, but thankfully he didn’t, simply nodded to the cue rack and challenged Jensen to a game.

“We missed you yesterday,” Steve said as he watched Jensen break. “I thought you were going to play in last night’s tournament.”

Jensen admitted that he was planning on it, but that he and Jared had gotten distracted with other things. He rubbed at the back of his neck and looked up coyly from beneath his eyelashes and Steve laughed outright.

“I see how it is,” he said. “It wasn’t too much fightin’ gave you that limp, it was too much lovin’.”

Just for that, Jensen made the eight on the break.

Steve shook his head. “Damn, kid,” he said. “You’re really somethin’ else.”

\--

It was close to midnight when Jensen got home, flushed with the thrill of his tournament win and one too many celebratory drinks. He found Jared sitting in the living room drinking whiskey by the light of the Discovery channel.

Jensen threw the pile of fifties he’d just won down on the coffee table in front of Jared.

“Won again,” he said. “Another thousand to go to Pellegrino.”

Jared looked up at him from beneath his bangs and his eyes were like coal.

“I got home,” he said. “And you weren’t here.”

Jensen sat down on the far end of the sofa and eyed Jared cautiously. “I texted you,” he said. “I told you where I was.”

Jared’s expression was dark and unfathomable. “At four. It’s midnight now.”

“You could have come down.”

Jared slammed his tumbler down on the coffee table and it took more effort than Jensen would have liked to keep from flinching.

“I didn’t want your buddy to start whispering in your ear about how I was stalking you,” Jared filled up his tumbler and took a long swallow. “He’s a cop, you know. Did you know that? Detective Steven Williams, Gang and Narcotics Division.”

“No,” Jensen said. “I didn’t know that.”

Jared snorted. “Liar. You’re prob’ly his informant. Gonna rat me out.”

“I played pool with the guy a couple times. We didn’t swap life stories. I didn’t know he was a cop. And he probably doesn’t even know who you are.”

Jared shook his head. “He knows. He’s got a rep. Good at his job. Incorruptible. Maybe you just fell in his lap, but he’s gonna try to use you.”

He threw back the rest of his whiskey and reached for the bottle again.

“The Beast says I should put you in your place. Show you what happens to people who rat us out.”

Jensen knew exactly what happened to people who ratted out HellSpawn. He’d been HeyDay’s apprentice, after all. But looking at Jared, he didn’t think he was about to get an ass kicking. And not just because Jared looked like he’d have trouble walking a straight line right now. Jensen scooted closer to the biker and put a hand on his thigh. “You know I won’t ever rat you out, right?”

Jared scoffed. “Don’t see why you wouldn’t. It’d get you out from under me.”

Jensen couldn’t help grinning. “Yeah? Well maybe I like being under you,” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively and was rewarded with a small smile.

Jared sat back with a fresh glass of whiskey and sighed. “Had a shitty day, Jen. Fucking ATF douchebags. And then got the news about De-tec-tive Williams. And Pellegrino wants to see bruises again. And then you didn’t come home an’ you didn’t come home and I thought…thought…”

Jared was actually pouting and Jensen almost laughed.

“Well I’m here now,” he said instead. “You wanna hit the sack? You can mark me up a little. Keep The Beast happy.”

“Okay,” Jared plonked his half-drunk glass of whiskey down on the coffee table and stood up, stretching so that his tee-shirt rode up and exposed his flat abs and snail trail. Jensen licked his lips. Jared grinned down at him and then reached out a hand and hauled Jensen to his feet.

“I gotta tell you, Jen,” Jared enunciated carefully, “that I am very, very, _very_ drunk right now. Prob’ly got a whiskey dick coz of all the whiskey I drank.”

Jensen hooked an arm around the biker and began herding him toward the bedroom.

“So we prob’ly can’t fuck,” Jared said as he staggered forward. “But I could spank you again. And then jerk you off. And then we can cuddle. I like cuddling.”

Drunk Jared was even more of an octopus than regular Jared and once they were both naked, Jensen allowed the biker to pull him over his lap and spank his ass. Even drunk, Jared seemed to enjoy doing it. Jensen—didn’t. Not really. He didn’t totally hate it; some perverse part of him got off on being forced to submit, but it seemed he needed to be already horny and turned on when he got spanked in order to properly enjoy it himself. Afterwards, Jared held him in his arms and jerked him off slowly while kissing his wet cheek and licking and biting at his neck and jaw. That part definitely didn’t suck.

Once Jensen had cleaned up, Jared insisted on cuddling him again.

“So fuckin’ hot,” he murmured in Jensen’s ear. “JD used to get sick of me goin’ on about how hot you were. But you’re hot like the sun,” he nuzzled at Jensen’s throat.

“How’d you end up with JD anyway?” Jensen asked, just to change the subject really.

He soon wished he hadn’t.

Jared’s childhood had sucked out loud. His mom had been a junkie and a sex worker. He’d been an accident. And his mom had lost and regained custody of him several times during his childhood. She’d moved them around a lot, always trying to keep one step ahead of child services. Not because she cared. Jared was very clear on that point. Because he was a meal ticket. Because there was always a good chance that if a dealer didn’t want her in trade for the fix she needed, he’d be happy to take Jared in trade instead.

Jensen listened to Jared’s dispassionate tale of abuse and neglect with growing horror and he was spitefully pleased when Jared told him that his mom had died of a drug overdose when he was thirteen. Of course, that merely left him to the tender mercies of a foster father with a large gambling debt and no qualms about using Jared to pay it off; which went a long way toward explaining why Jared had taken such vicious joy in personally garrotting bookie Sterling Brown.

MorningStar Motors was just around the corner from where Jared lived with his last foster family and he used to sneak in to look at the cars and the bikes and watch the mechanics work. Sterling Brown had to pay dues to HellSpawn in order to operate on their turf and somehow or other, JD found out what was going on with Jared and his foster father’s debt.

“JD wanted to kill Sterling back then,” Jared said, in the flat tone he’d been using since he began to talk about his childhood. “But The Beast said he was too valuable. He got a pretty severe beating, though, and my foster father disappeared. I just kind of…went home with JD and nobody seemed to care. I was fourteen years old and I dropped out of school and got an apprenticeship at MorningStar Motors. JD, he was the best dad I ever had. Didn’t hit me, never tried to fuck me. He was so kind and patient and,” Jared wiped at his face. “I was a fucking mess, Jen. But he taught me about real love and loyalty and gave me something to live for. And then he got killed. And we never even figured out who did it.”

Jensen wiggled on his sore ass and then peered up at Jared. “I probably shouldn’t say anything,” he said, “but…you do know that doesn’t track, right? Pellegrino’s VP got murdered. He should’ve moved Heaven and Hell to sort out who did it, not just let it drop.”

Jared looked at him with sad, wide eyes. “HeyDay said that Pellegrino thought he got capped by the ATF, that there was nothing we could do without risking the club and that we should just let it go.”

“Do you believe that?” Jensen asked.

Jared shrugged. And then passed out.


	5. Chapter 5

Jensen awoke to off-key crooning and opened his eyes, once again, to the unwelcome sight of Mark Pellegrino staring into his face.

“Fuck!” he jerked backwards and flailed into Jared who lurched upwards with a mumbled curse, his hair doing its best impression of a large shaggy dog.

“Seriously, man,” Jensen said to him. “Just give me five minutes with the clippers, that’s all I ask.”

“What?” Jared frowned. “Shut up. Mark? What are you--” and then his face turned a sickly green and he clamped his hands over his mouth before running naked for the bathroom.

Jensen and Pellegrino listened to him retching noisily and then Pellegrino pulled a face and shrugged.

“Nice hickeys,” he pointed at Jensen’s throat. “Get up.”

Jensen didn’t bother trying to hide himself this time, just spun around naked—as instructed—to give The Beast a good look at his body.

Pellegrino harrumphed. “He went easy on you.” He gave Jensen’s ass a hard smack.

Jensen spun to face him with a scowl. “Maybe he’s just more creative than you? There’s more than one way to torture someone, you know. And Jared’s got a pretty big box of toys.”

Of course, they hadn’t really done much of anything last night, but Pellegrino didn’t need to know that.

“He’s right,” Jared said, reappearing in the bedroom. “I always enjoy the classics, but there are a lot of fun ways to torment someone,” he cleared his throat and crossed his arms. “Not that it isn’t a pleasure to see you, Mark, but what can we do for you at,” he glanced at the clock. “6.00am on a Monday morning?”

Pellegrino smiled widely. “Oh, just checking in,” he said. “But you know, now that I think about it, there is something that Jensen can do for me. Underlings getting on their knees and blowing the boss is one of the classics, right?”

Jared’s face darkened like a stormy sky. “Jensen is _mine_ ,” he said.

Pellegrino’s face lit up with cruel glee. “And I’m your boss. What’s yours is mine, Moose, and don’t you ever forget it.”

Jared’s expression darkened even further. He straightened up, rigid with fury, and flicked his eyes to Jensen. Jensen realized, with a sick sense of dread, that Jared was one protest from Jensen away from doing something stupid; like going and getting his Glock and shooting The Beast between the eyes.

So Jensen did the only thing he could think of. He dropped to his knees and undid Pellegrino’s jeans, as if he was cool with this; as if it were nothing.

Jared made a noise, somewhere between a growl and a whine and Jensen slid has hands around Pellegrino’s hips and gave Jared a thumbs up and then waved him away.

“Yeah, good,” Pellegrino said. “Suck it, slut.”

Jensen rolled his eyes. He’d sucked Pellegrino off before. He wasn’t going to enjoy it, he didn’t really want to do it, but it was hardly going to scar him for life. He did hope that The Beast would keep his dirty talk to a minimum, though, because he sucked at it.

Jensen got Pellegrino’s mostly soft dick in his mouth and sucked and tongued until it hardened. Mostly, he was listening for Jared and when he heard the shower start he was finally able to relax and get to work, using his considerable dick sucking skills to bring The Beast off as quickly and efficiently as possible. Because he was a bastard, Pellegrino held Jensen’s head tightly and flooded his mouth with come.

“Swallow, bitch,” he said.

Jensen held it in his mouth and when Pellegrino let go of his head he spat it out.

Pellegrino scowled. “I told you to swallow.”

“Yeah, no offense, but I don’t know where you’ve been.”

Having said which, it occurred to Jensen that, these days, Pellegrino didn’t usually step out on his old lady—not this close to home, anyway. He hadn’t actually met Alaina yet, but she came with a pretty solid reputation as a heinous, cold-hearted bitch. And apparently she already thought Jensen was a threat. Jensen wondered what Pellegrino was trying to achieve here. Was it just the five star blow job he’d been after, or had putting Jared and Jensen in their place been important enough to him to risk his old lady’s wrath?

Pellegrino tucked himself away slowly with a smug, self-satisfied smirk on his face.

Jensen stayed where he was, kneeling on the floor, until Pellegrino told him to get up.

The Beast ran a thumb across Jensen’s lips and Jensen tried not to let his repulsion show as Pellegrino told him that he was a good little cock sucker; that if he didn’t make enough cash at the tables, they could stand him on a street corner and make a good living off of his mouth.

Jensen refused to react, because he knew that’s what Pellegrino was after.

“Anything else you need?” he asked. “Breakfast? Coffee?”

Pellegrino pursed his lips. “Nah, I got my blow job. Can’t hang around here all day staring at your pretty ass. I got people to do, things to see. No wait, reverse that.”

Jensen showed Pellegrino out and found Heyerdahl waiting in the kitchen, seemingly immersed in something on his cell phone. He stood up when Jensen walked in stark naked, and snapped a photo of him with a wolfish grin.

“See you ‘round, Jenny,” he said in his nasally voice, following his boss to the door and leering at Jensen’s nakedness.

“Make sure Moose isn’t late for work,” Pellegrino told Jensen. He opened the door and then sauntered outside whistling _Highway to Hell_.

When they’d gone, Jensen went and joined Jared in the shower. The biker’s head was leaning against the wall of the cubicle and he was surrounded by steam.

“You okay?” Jensen asked, circling Jared’s waist with his arms.

“I should be asking you that,” Jared said morosely.

“I’m fine. Nothing I haven’t had to do before, Jay.”

He picked up the soap and began to wash Jared, lathering up his arms, his back, his legs and his butt, massaging each part in turn and then rinsing him off. By the time Jensen slipped his arms around to Jared’s front to do his chest and groin, Jared was hard.

“What are we gonna do about this?” Jensen said teasingly, fisting Jared’s cock with a soapy hand.

Jared looked at him with unfathomable eyes. “Should I just jerk off like a normal person?” he asked. 

Jensen shook his head. He reached up and pumped out a generous amount of conditioner and then reached behind himself and began to work himself open.

Jared swore. He turned them around so that Jensen was now the one pressed up against the wall of the shower, and then it was Jensen’s turn to spit out curses as first one, then two of Jared’s fingers joined the two of his own that he was already using to stretch himself.

With nothing but water and conditioner to ease the way, it hurt when Jared thrust inside, but Jensen didn’t care, because he fucking loved Jared’s dick, every long, fat inch of it. He shifted his feet and stuck his ass out further and Jared got the message, taking hold of Jensen’s hips and slamming in hard, nailing his prostate on every other thrust as Jensen moaned at the pain, the pleasure, the _relief_ of being so thoroughly owned.

He began to fist his dick and Jared’s thrusts became erratic as he hammered in hard, chasing release. With a shudder, Jensen realized that they were fucking bare, but before he could open his mouth to say anything, Jared pulled out and came all over his ass. Jensen groaned and followed him over the edge.

“Fucking love your cock,” Jensen said, his voice so slurred with pleasure that he sounded drunk.

“Just my cock?”

Jensen hummed. “Some other parts of you are all right too.”

They got out of the shower and began to towel off.

“So listen,” Jensen said. “I was thinking maybe I’d catch up with Steve today.”

Jared tensed visibly. “Why?”

Jensen wrapped the towel around his waist. “The way I see it, we can play this two ways. One: I meet up with Steve, tell him I’m scared of you, out of my depth, let him convince me to become his informant and then we used him to funnel disinformation to the gang task force.”

Jared was leaning back against the wall and frowning. “He’s going work out pretty quick that nothing you tell him pans out.”

Jensen raised his eyebrows. “Give me a little credit. I do know how to run a successful con,” he waited until Jared nodded in acquiescence and then said, “That’s not the main issue with option one, anyway. The main problem is Dean Winchester. If Steve’s as thorough and diligent as you say he is, he probably knows about my Dean Winchester alias and that means he’s not gonna buy me as a scared punk rich kid who got in over his head.”

“Right,” Jared nodded. “So what’s the second option?”

“I meet up with him, let him know that I know he’s a cop, and then offer to be co-operative, so long as it doesn’t hurt you.”

Jared sucked in a harsh breath. “Why?” he said, eyes narrowed.

Jensen shrugged. “Because it doesn’t hurt to have a cop who likes you, maybe even owes you a favor. And it doesn’t hurt HellSpawn if I keep my ears open and occasionally tell him what bad things other people are doing. Also,” Jensen licked at his lips, “if Steve starts to trust me, I might be able to pump him for information on JD.”

Jared went very still.

“Maybe the cops didn’t try too hard to figure out who killed him,” Jensen said, watching Jared closely and trying to gauge his mood, “because what do they care if one bad guy kills another? But I’m betting they at least looked into it, enough to know if it was gonna start a gang war. Maybe Steve knows something we could use.”

Jensen wasn’t sure what to make of the expression that came over Jared’s face and he couldn’t help backing into the sink when Jared advanced on him menacingly.

“Are you fucking playing me?” Jared barked. “Is this all a huge fucking con to you?”

Jensen gaped at him. “Chill, Jared. I’m on your side.”

“Why? I forced you to have sex with me. I hit you. I wouldn’t let you leave the apartment. Why the fuck would you be on my side?”

“Because I like you, asshole!” Jensen spat. “You’re funny and sexy and smart and a total geek and your dogs love you and the girls all like you because you treat them with respect most of the time and, yeah, okay, you’re kinky as fuck and you can be a possessive, controlling asshole, but it seems like you’ve got your reasons. And the way I see it, pretty much the only guy you ever had on your side was JD and…I liked JD too. You deserve to know what happened to him, Jay,” Jensen slid his arms around Jared’s waist. “I’m not playing you. This ain’t a con. I’m on your side. For real.”

Jared stared down at him with the flattest, most expressionless eyes Jensen had ever seen. And then he blinked and his eyes became those of a sad, lost puppy. He hesitated a moment and then cupped a hand around the back of Jensen’s head and lowered his lips to Jensen’s, kissing him gently, tentatively, before licking his way inside and plundering Jensen’s mouth greedily, almost as if he were trying to taste Jensen’s sincerity by sucking on his tongue.

When he finally pulled away he looked a lot less uncertain and a lot calmer too.

“Do it,” he said decisively, and it was the HellSpawn VP speaking. “Go with option 2. But we’ll tell Pellegrino you’re feeding the cops disinformation. ”

\--

Beaver’s Junkyard was small and dilapidated and Jensen wondered how he managed to keep it running now that he was in a wheelchair.

He’d had the cab drop him off a little way down the road and then he’d walked past the used car lot, past the garden supply place, past the tile-and-paver warehouse and, finally, down the long gravel driveway, past all the wrecks, to the small site office.

This was a risk. A big one. And Jensen couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t quietly shitting himself. He walked up the ramp with a pounding heart and opened the glass sliding door.

There was guy with a blond mullet and a muscle shirt sitting at the desk in the front office. He was nobody Jensen recognized.

“Hey,” Jensen said.

The guy looked up from his computer, expression bored.

“I’m lookin’ for Jim. Jim Beaver.”

“And you are?”

“An old friend.”

The blond guy looked him up and down slowly and then picked up his desk phone. “Boss, got a guy here askin’ for you. Says he’s an old friend.”

The blond guy’s eyes flicked up to Jensen’s. “Name?”

Jensen licked at his lips. “Tell him it’s Dean Winchester.”

Blond guy relayed the information and then his eyes widened. Before he could do much more than look stunned the door into the back office flew open and Jim wheeled himself out, brandishing a sawn-off shotgun.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t blow a hole in you?” he demanded.

“JD Morgan.”

“He’s dead.”

Jensen nodded. “He was a good man. And a friend of yours too, I hear.”

Jim half lowered the shotgun. “He had a soft spot for you. Was real upset when he thought The Beast had you killed.”

Jensen held his hands up beside his head in the universal gesture of surrender. “Jim, I’m sorry for what I did to you. To Traci. Heyerdahl was…insistent, but that don’t excuse it.”

“Damn right it don’t,” Jim said. He held Jensen’s eyes, expression hard. Jensen did his best to look contrite, which wasn’t too hard, because he still felt like shit about what went down with Jim and Traci. 

Finally, Jim sighed. “The damage to my legs, that ain’t on you. That was HeyDay. Same with Traci’s eyes.” Jim ran a hand over his face. “Look, I’ve done a fucked up thing or two in my time. What you did, I don’t hold it against you. What’s done is done. But if you’re on some twelve-steps-askin’-for-forgiveness kick, you can get out. I ain’t got the patience for that nonsense.”

Jensen wrinkled his nose. “Hell no. I just wanna talk.”

“About?”

Jensen looked at the blond guy and then nodded back toward Jim’s office.

Jim frowned. “I’ll give you five minutes.”

Jensen ended up staying for over an hour.  

\--

Jensen was already at Happy Gok’s Pool Hall when Steve arrived. He was sitting at one of the round bar tables with a double-shot latte in one hand and a lit Marlboro in the other and he watched as Steve paused in the entrance and then made a beeline for Jensen as soon as he saw him, walking slowly, eyes narrowed, taking everything in.

“You all right, Jensen?” Steve said, taking a seat opposite him. “You sounded worried on the phone.”

Jensen took a sip of his coffee; swallowed. “Everything’s fine Detective Williams.”

Give Steve his due, he barely reacted. Only a slight tightening around his eyes and mouth and the way he rubbed at his shirt cuff gave him away.

“I’m guessing Padalecki had me investigated,” Steve said.

Well at least that answered the question of whether he knew who Jared was.

“Hey, Johnny?” Jensen called out to Johnny Gok. “Can we get another coffee over here?” his eyes flicked to Steve. “Long black, right?”

Steve nodded and Jensen relayed the information to Johnny.

“You know that, legally, you’re not supposed to smoke in here, right?” Steve said.

Jensen smirked at him. “What are you gonna do, Detective? Arrest me—and everyone else—for smoking? Besides, pretty sure this place is family run.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Okay, cards on the table, then. I’m Detective Steve Williams, Gang and Narcotics Division. You’re Jensen Ackles, aka Dean Winchester. It’s been seven, eight years since your alias was last running with HellSpawn. Why are you back?”

Jensen took a drag on his cigarette. “I had a debt to pay.”

Steve’s eyes bored into him. “You still payin’ it? Is that why you’re with Padalecki?”

“It’s…complicated.”

Steve looked less than impressed. “That ain’t an answer, son, it’s a Facebook relationship status.”

Jensen laughed. “Yeah.”

“Huh,” Steve said, his expression curious and assessing. “So why did you call me?”

“Because you seem like a good guy. I wanted you to know that HellSpawn knew you were a cop. They think you want to get to them through me, which makes you a threat to them.”

Johnny brought Steve’s coffee over and he took it with a word of thanks.

“What are they gonna think of you meeting up with me like this, then?” he asked Jensen.

“They’re gonna think we’re running a con. That I’m agreeing to be your informant so that we can feed you bullshit.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “That only works if I don’t know that’s what you’re doing.”

Jensen acknowledged the comment with a wry smile and Steve examined him intently, brow furrowed.

“So what are you really doing?”

Jensen lit another cigarette. “I’ve been talkin’ to Jim Beaver. He tells me the two of you went to school together.”

“From kindergarten, right through until he dropped out in High School.”

“Jim said you were buddies.”

“We _were_. But we chose different paths. He chose a life of violence and crime and I chose to wear a badge. I tried to persuade him to leave that life behind, but MC culture was in his blood.”

“He’s out now.”

“So I hear.”

Jensen leaned forward. “He tells me JD came to you, that it was you that got him and Traci out of that warehouse.”

Steve took a sip of his coffee; ran a thumb across his mustache. “JD had a conscience. He didn’t like what Heyerdahl was doing to Jim and Traci and he knew that Jim and I used to be friends,” Steve chuckled humorously. “I was denied a place in the Gang and Narcotics division three times, because of my prior friendship with Jim. They were worried I might be _unduly influenced_ by my _emotional ties_ ,” Steve glared, the memory obviously still a sore point. “When Jim got four wheels under him permanently, that’s when I got the promotion I’d been after for years.”

You couldn’t be an MC member if you couldn’t ride a motorcycle and after what had happened to him and Traci, Jim and his old lady had too much to adjust to, to want to continue their association with The Dead Reapers. Bad for Jim. Good for Steve.

Jensen took a final drag on his cigarette and butted it out. “Must piss you off knowing your superiors don’t fully trust you.”

“Oh they trust me,” Steve said. “Everybody knows I’m a straight shooter. I’ve earned that trust.”

Jensen pursed his lips. “Still, it’d look pretty good on your jacket if you managed to take down Pellegrino, huh?”

Steve was starting to look pissed. “What do you want, Jensen?”

Jensen smiled. “I want to know what JD was doing for you guys when Pellegrino had him killed.”

He hadn’t been sure; not one hundred percent. Not until Steve’s eyes tightened and he began to rub at his shirt cuff.

_Yahtzee_ , Jensen thought grimly.   

\--

Jared pulled into a parking space around the side of the club rooms and Jensen swung himself off the bike and took off his helmet. He handed it to Jared who hung both helmets over the bike’s handlebars and then Jared cocked his head and gave Jensen a slow, thorough once over.

“Man,” he said. “I’m so tempted to just go home and tie you to the bed. But when the President summons you, you gotta play nice.”

Jensen stepped into his space. “Wanna fuck me up against the side of the building before we go in?”

Jared looked at him with narrowed eyes. “That a genuine offer or are you just humoring me?”

Jensen shrugged. “I’ve got exhibitionist tendencies. If you don’t believe me, my therapist will confirm it.”

“You have a therapist?” Jared raised an eyebrow.

“Had. My parents insisted.”

“And how did that make you feel?”

Jensen punched Jared’s arm. “Don’t you fuckin’ start.”

Jared sniggered. “Hey, I know what it’s like. I had a whole bunch of social workers. Every single one of ‘em underpaid, overworked and happy to lose my paperwork.”

The club rooms were dark and smoky and _Sweet Home Alabama_ was playing on the stereo system as Jared and Jensen walked in, shoulder-to-shoulder.

The whole gang appeared to be there, plus a bunch of hangers-on, sitting around in the den area smoking, drinking and—Jensen’s breath caught in his throat—snorting coke.

“ _Jay_ ,” Jensen said urgently, rocking to a standstill.

“It’s okay, Jensen,” Jared took hold of his hand.

Jensen shook his head. “I can’t be here.”

Jared turned to face Jensen and lifted his chin, forcing Jensen to meet his eyes. “You don’t have permission to do any drugs tonight. You hear me? There are no choices for you to make. You just have to obey me. Can you do that?”

“How about we just go home? You can tie me to the bed. Do whatever you want to me.”

Jared’s expression remained grave. “Much as I would love to, we’re gonna have to hang out here for a while. President’s orders, remember?”

“Fuck, Jay. I’m gonna use. I--”

“Hey,” Jared gave him a little shake. “Remember the other night, when I refused to let you come for hours?”

Jensen nodded.

“It wasn’t exactly comfortable, was it? But in the long run, I made it worth your while, didn’t I?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jensen watched Katie snort a line of coke through a straw. He could almost _feel_ the rush and he swallowed hard.

“Look at me, Jen.”

Jensen met Jared’s eyes again.

“You don’t have permission to use.”

“Okay, Jay.”

“This is gonna be uncomfortable for you, I know that. But I will make it worth your while. I promise.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

Jared stared at him for a moment and then said, “If you’re struggling I want you to use your safe word and we’ll leave.”

Jensen nodded again.

“What’s your safe word?”

“Red.”

“Are you boys joining us, or what?” Pellegrino called out.

“Be there in a minute,” Jared called back.

“You okay, Jensen?” he added quietly.

“Yeah.”

Jared escorted Jensen past the sofas and straight over to the bar. Rachel was serving and Jensen was ridiculously grateful when Jared told him to join her. He slipped behind the counter and did his best to smile at her, but she could obviously tell that something was off.

“Recovering addict,” he said in response to her query.

She slid her eyes over to the drug taking going on just a few yards away and nodded. “Okay, Sweet pea, I got your back.”

Jensen helped himself to a shot of bourbon and lit a cigarette.

“So Jensen,” Pellegrino called. “I hear you visited Jim Beaver today.”

Jensen sucked hard on his cigarette and thanked God that he’d already told Jared about his impromptu visit. Bikers gossiped more than old women. You couldn’t fart around here without somebody overhearing and telling everyone.

“I did,” he said. “Figured I owed him an apology.”

Pellegrino raised an eyebrow. “And how did that go?”

Jensen manufactured a rueful grin. “He pointed a sawn-off at me and told me to get the hell off his property.”

The comment was met with raucous laughter and then Pellegrino asked him why he’d been in Beaver’s office for so long if that’s all that happened. Jensen explained that he’d been persistent and Jim had eventually let him make his apology.

“It’s a twelve steps thing,” he lied. “Step 9, making amends to people I harmed when I was a coked-out fuck up. He was nice about it. Let me ramble on, get it all off my chest.”

“Huh,” Pellegrino picked up a straw and snorted a line of coke off the mirror on the coffee table. “Does this bother you then?” he gestured at the mirror and the lines.

“Honestly?” Jensen took another drag. “Yeah. It does.”

Pellegrino stared at him for a moment and then whispered something to Gen, who nodded, climbed off his lap and picked up a silver tray. She scurried up to the bar and asked for a round of Tequila, lemon slices and salt.

“Get chopping Big Boy,” Rachel said, handing Jensen a fruit bowl filled with lemons and limes.

Jensen butted out his Marlboro and got to work. He flicked his eyes up to Gen who was leaning on the bar looking up at him. Up close, he could see a bruise on her cheek.

“You okay?” he asked. “Do you need some ice?”

“Already iced it,” she said. “And yeah. But you better watch out. Alaina’s on the warpath.”

“Alaina did that?”

Gen nodded. “She doesn’t hang out down here much, so Mark usually uses me as his lap warmer. Alaina doesn’t normally care unless he actually sticks his dick in me; that’s like, her line in the sand. But she’s in a bad mood today.”

“She’s here?”

Gen nodded. “She’s out the back. She has an office back there. She’ll probably be out later.”

Jensen tipped the pile of sliced lemon into a bowl and put it on the tray. “I haven’t met her yet.”

“You’re not missing much,” Rachel said lowly, putting the last shot glass of Tequila on the tray.

When Gen had gone, Rachel turned to Jensen. “HeyDay was showing Alaina something on his phone earlier. She lost her shit, said, _I’m gonna kill him. Fucking slut_.”

Jensen could almost feel the color draining from his face.

“What?” Rachel folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. “You know something, Pumpkin?”

“What’s with all the nicknames?” Jensen deflected.

“Trying to find one that suits you. Don’t change the subject.”

Jensen sighed and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Had a visit from The Beast this morning. I know for sure HeyDay got a photo of me naked. It’s possible that he might’ve got a few more photos I wasn’t aware of.”

“Huh,” said Rachel. “And these photos…would they…?”

“Cross Alaina’s line in the sand? Yeah.”

Rachel pulled a face and then shuddered. “Better you than me.”

Jensen lit another cigarette.

“Question,” he said. “Why are you here? You don’t seem to like…anyone, really.”

Rachel grinned. “I like all the girls just fine. Except for Alaina. Moose and Rolly are good guys. And Freddie,” she smiled shyly. “He really floats my boat. Crossroads is irritating, I’ll give you that, and the less said about, well, you know who, the better. But if you want my honest answer, I’m here for ol’ Yellow Eyes.”

Jensen was surprised and he knew it showed. “Dude’s gotta be almost sixty,” he said.

Rachel shrugged. “Just means he’s got experience. We can’t all be cradle snatchers like you.”

“Jensen!” HeyDay called out. “Bring me a beer.”

Jensen looked across to where HeyDay was sitting, with line after line of coke spread out in front of him. He swallowed.

“I’ll go get it,” Gen tried to climb up off Pellegrino’s lap, but he tugged her back down and squeezed her breast so hard that she winced.

“Jensen! Now!” HeyDay insisted.

Jensen turned his back and took a gulp of air. Then another.

Rachel got a big glass beer mug down and filled it with the Bud they had on tap.

“I can’t go over there,” Jensen said. “Fuck. I…”

“I got your back,” Rachel murmured. “And so has your boy.”

Jensen turned to see Jared standing on the other side of the bar.

“Breathe,” Jared said. “And then pour me a double bourbon.”

Jensen took a deep breath. Rachel was taking HeyDay his beer. Fuck. He wanted to go over there so badly, to slide to his knees in front of that mirror and snort a couple lines. He could almost taste the bitter, acrid chemicals in the back of his throat. He wanted the euphoria, the on-top-of-the-world feeling of invincibility so badly he was shaking. He needed this. Just one line. He could do that. Just one line. Just one.

But then afterwards, when he was starting to come down, HeyDay would drag him into one of the back rooms and hurt him, just like he always did. He would get out that little knife he liked to carry around and he would run the cold steel over Jensen until he was trembling. Then the cutting would start. Little nicks and abrasions and the hot welling of blood. _You’re so pretty when you cry, Dean._

“Jensen!”

Jensen’s eyes fixed immediately on Jared’s.

“You with me?”

“Yeah. Sorry. One double bourbon coming up.”

He got down a tumbler and the Jim Beam and poured the double shot. He could hear Rachel using her caustic tongue to give Heyerdahl shit and he was glad, so glad, that he had people looking out for him.

“Just remember,” Jared murmured. “If you’re good for me, I’m gonna make it worth your while.”

Jensen took a deep breath and nodded. He hated knife play. He hated even more that in the past Heyerdahl had got him high and then tied him down and made him bleed. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to be so strung out that he’d agree to anything. He wanted to be good for Jared and maybe that was a little bit pathetic, but he knew that Jared would keep his word, that he’d reward Jensen with enough pleasure to blow a fuse in his mind.

“Pellegrino wants us guys to play poker,” Jared said, and Jensen knew that ‘us guys’ didn’t include him. “Are you all right to stay a bit longer, or do you need me to take you home?”

Jensen told Jared that he’d be okay. He wasn’t actually sure that he would be, but if he was going to hang around; if he was going to make this work, then he had to learn to deal with this.

The guys moved across to the table where they played cards and the girls cleared up all the drug paraphernalia. Katie turned the music up and then they were all dancing, slowly sensually, putting on a performance for the guys, stopping sometimes to kiss and rub against each other.

Jensen lit another cigarette and made himself a strong black coffee, which he downed fast. His hands were still shaking.

“You remember where the stock room is?”

Jensen nodded and Rachel handed him a clipboard. “Go count everything and write down what I need to order. It’ll give you some space to get yourself together.”

The stock room was cold, quiet and dusty. Jensen took his cigarettes and an ashtray with him, sat himself down on a stack of slabs of Jack and Cola and flipped open the pack. There were only four cigarettes left. Fuck. He really needed to cut back. Since this whole thing with HellSpawn started, he’d graduated from one pack a day to two. 

Jensen finished his cigarette and squashed it into the ashtray on his lap. He stared at the four still standing like soldiers in the pack and pretended for a moment that he wasn’t going to smoke another one.

Fuck it. He shook another one loose, pulled his disposable lighter out from behind the cigarette pack’s plastic wrapping and lit up, sucking in smoke as if his life depended on it, when in fact it was probably killing him.

At least by the time he’d smoked the second one, his hands had stopped shaking.

Inventorying the alcohol was actually soothing and Jensen quickly got into the rhythm of counting, comparing the total to the minimum stock level required, and noting the items that needed replenishing. Half an hour later he was done and he was out of cigarettes. Maybe he could bum a couple off Rachel? She smoked Dunhill International. The other girls who smoked all smoked that menthol shit.

Jensen switched the light off and left the stock room and something hard connected with his face, with enough force to snap his head back.

“Fuck!” He reached a hand up to stem the flow of blood from his nose and eyeballed the tall redhead in the black jeans, black leather jacket and _The Devil Made Me Do It_ tee-shirt. “Alaina, right?”

A moment later he was shoved back against the wall with Alaina’s hands around his throat.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” she said. “Pellegrino is _mine_.”

Jensen rolled his eyes and then broke her hold on him, reversing their positions and pinning her to the wall by her wrists. “And you’re welcome to him, sister. You think I wanted his tiny, slimy dick down my throat? I didn’t have a choice. But hey, if you ever want any pointers, I can teach you how to make him come quick.”

 Alaina tried to knee him in the balls, but Jensen managed to scoot out of the way and she got his thigh instead. “You don’t want to piss me off, _Princess_ ,” she said. “People who piss me off end up cut into little strips and buried under cement.”

“Duly noted,” Jensen said, letting go of her wrists and stepping back.

Alaina scowled and rubbed at her wrists.

“Don’t forget that I have status, Jensen. _I’m_ the First Lady. I get treated like a member. You’re just a pretty set of holes to be used.”

She sashayed out into the main part of the club and Jensen waited for a moment and then followed her out. He found her seated at the table with the guys, demanding that she be dealt into the game. She gave him a smug, self-satisfied look as Crossroads dealt her in.

_Oh Sweetheart_ , Jensen thought, _you are so far out of your depth_.

He gave Jared his most seductive smile and then strolled over to the den area, where the girls were sitting around smoking, drinking and gossiping. He waved the clipboard at Rachel and placed it on the bar before sliding in next to her on the sofa.

Rachel examined him with narrow eyes. “You’re bleeding,” she said.

Jensen put his hand up to his nose as if he’d forgotten. “Oh yeah. Anyone got a Kleenex?”

Katie got a small packet out of her purse and handed it to him and he dabbed at his nose.

“What happened?” Gen asked.

Jensen widened his eyes. “Her Royal Bitchiness is pissed at me. Like it’s my fault The Beast, well, you know. Ain’t like I can say no to him, is it?”

 “That’s so unfair!” Gen was quick to commiserate.

Within moments Rachel had brought him a beer (and he’d bummed a cigarette off her) and Katie had dipped a Kleenex in vodka and used it to clean the rest of the blood from his face. Jensen settled back and let them fuss over him and bitch about Alaina, occasionally throwing in a word or two to set them off again when it looked like they were winding down. He felt eyes boring into him and looked up to see Alaina staring at him with loathing. Loathing and the awareness that she’d made a serious tactical error.  The sweet-butts and Ruthie were all most definitely in Jensen’s corner and whether Alaina wanted to acknowledge it or not, the bikers were—for the most part—a bunch of misogynists who would never accept her as an equal. She might think her status as First Lady was a trump card, but Jensen knew better. In the MC world, dick beat pussy every time and that gave him an advantage that Alaina would never have.

_You shook me all night long_ came on the stereo and Katie squealed and dragged Gen to her feet. “Come dance!”

Nicky joined them and Rachel patted Jensen on the knee and went across to the bar to check on the inventory he’d done for her. Ruthie got up from her seat on the other side of the coffee table and minced across on her very high heels to sit beside him.

“Well played, Sweetie,” she said. “You really are a worthy Queen.”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “Being gay doesn’t make me a girl, you know.”

“I know that,” Ruthie huffed. “I was actually comparing you to the chess piece. The Queen is the most powerful piece on the board, you know.”

Jensen rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Well you oughta be the Queen then.”

Ruthie smirked and patted primly at her hair. “Oh Darlin’,” she said, sotto voce, “flattery will get you _everywhere_.”

Jensen laughed. “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass. But while we’re talking, just us girls,” he winked at her, “I heard something today, which,” he broke off and sighed. “All of us here, I’m guessing the one thing we’ve all got in common is, I guess you’d call it a certain _moral flexibility_. But we’ve all got lines we don’t cross. Today, someone told me that HellSpawn was making a profit off of kiddie porn, and that don’t sit right with me.”

“Would that someone be Detective Steve Williams? Moose told the boys about your plan this afternoon. Pellegrino wasn’t happy, but he approved it,” Ruthie leaned in close. “After the meeting I saw Pellegrino and HeyDay talking. Pellegrino said that maybe if they gave you enough rope you’d hang yourselves.”

Jensen wrinkled his nose. It sounded like Pellegrino was already suspicious of them.

“Yeah, it was Steve. And sure, he could’ve just been trying to get a rise out of me, but I think he honestly believed it. Have you heard anything?”

Ruthie looked at him long and hard, her eyes like slits. Eventually she sighed. “You’ve heard that Pellegrino is having my Mark go over the books of several businesses because he thinks that they’re trying to short-change HellSpawn on their cut?”

Jensen nodded.  “Right. There was that whole thing with the bookie.”

“Another one of the businesses Mark is investigating makes porn that people subscribe to over the internet. Mark found some irregularities and wanted to take a closer look at them. Pellegrino told him to drop it. Now, as I’m sure you can appreciate, an organization like ours is quite complex. There’s a confusing rabbit warren of shelf companies, holding companies, off-shore accounts and so on that make the money trails difficult for the authorities to follow.  Getting into kiddie porn would be against the Club’s constitution, so I’m gonna give you a name. Maybe you can reassure all of us that none of the Club’s rules are being quietly broken.”

Ruthie stopped speaking and looked at Jensen intently.

“Go on,” he said. “What’s the name?”

She bit her bottom lip and glanced across at the guys playing poker. “Amara Enterprises,” she said finally. “That’s the name of the company that Pellegrino uses to channel the porn money. He set it up about four years ago.”

Four years ago. So that’d be right around the time JD was killed.


	6. Chapter 6

_“Please, please, please!”_ Jensen begged, pulling desperately at the restraints even though he knew that he was firmly tied down and wasn’t going anywhere.

His semi-hard cock was trapped in a stainless steel cock cage, with his purple balls pulled back and firmly held by a steel ring. Jared had been teasing him for over an hour; sucking and licking him, tormenting him with a prostate massager, running a fine paint brush in between the gaps in the cage and across the head of his dick until he was dripping pre-come like a leaky tap, his over-sensitized nerve endings screaming with pleasure/pain.

“Please. Need... _Please_.” Jensen couldn’t think about anything except his dick and his desperate need to come. 

But he couldn’t come. Not with the way his dick was bound. The cage allowed his cock to swell just enough to make him feel as if he were going to burst out of the cage, but he could only get hard enough to torture and frustrate him, not enough to allow him to come.

“Fucking love you like this,” Jared said, pressing hard against Jensen’s prostate with the massager and gently tonguing at his tormented dick through the bars in the cage. “So needy. Completely at my mercy. You’d do anything for me right now, wouldn’t you?”

The bitch of it was Jared was absolutely right. Jensen _would_ do anything. And what did that say about him?

Jared lifted his head and kissed Jensen gently on the lips. “We’re gonna have to make a list of likes and dislikes aren’t we? I’m not sure I can trust anything you agree to when you’re like this.”

Jared pulled the prostate massager out of Jensen’s ass slowly and Jensen arched his back and whined at the loss.

“Give me a color.”

Color? Huh? What? Dimly, Jensen remembered them agreeing to use the traffic light system and he panted out the word _green_.

Jared settled himself in between Jensen’s spread legs and nestled the head of his cock against Jensen’s hole.

“Please,” Jensen said, straining to get Jared inside of him.

Jared slid in deep in one slow relentless push and Jensen almost sobbed with relief.

Jared fucked him hard for hours, or maybe minutes, Jensen was out of his mind with need, so it was a little hard to tell.

“Got the test results back today,” Jared said—which is when Jensen realized that the biker was fucking him bare. 

His self-preservation skills really needed work.

“We’re both clean,” Jared rolled his hips and nailed Jensen’s prostate. “Gonna come inside you,” Jensen’s eyes rolled back in his head as Jared nailed his prostate again.

“But first…” Jared reached down and snapped open the cock cage.

Jensen’s dick plumped fast as Jared pulled the cage off him and all it took was one more snap of Jared’s hips, one twist of his wrist, and Jensen came so hard that he whited out, his blood roaring in his ears.

When he came to again, he could feel Jared’s come leaking out of him, which was gross, and Jared was wiping him down with a warm, wet cloth.

Jensen groaned. “Think you broke me.”

Jared grinned. “Was good though, right?”

“Fucking awesome. Can you untie me now please?”

Jared freed him from the restraints and Jensen pulled himself upright and reached for his brand new pack of cigarettes.  “So,” he said as he lit up. “We need to talk. What do you know about Amara Enterprises?”

Jared gaped at him. “Seriously? You want to talk business now?”

Jensen endeavoured to look as earnest and resolute as possible, quite difficult given how boneless and brain-numb he was feeling.

Jared climbed into bed and snuggled down beside him. “Amara Enterprises is the porn businesses. Why?”

Jensen told him about his conversations with Jim, Steve and Ruthie, emphasizing the salient points so that Jared would connect all the dots himself.

With hindsight, starting this conversation with Jared at two o’clock in the morning when Jensen was a little tipsy and a lot fucked out had probably been a mistake. For a long moment, Jared sat as still and as lethal as a lion waiting to pounce and then he sprang out of bed and yanked open the nightstand drawer.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him,” he said with quiet, intense fury as he picked up his gun and checked the magazine.

Jensen climbed out of bed and intercepted him before he could get to the bedroom door.

“Jared, stop.”

“Get the fuck out of my way, Jensen, or I swear to God…”

“Please just listen. I…”

Jared punched him and Jensen stumbled as his head snapped back. He recovered quickly and put himself in Jared’s path again.

“I can’t let you go out there like this. Dude, you’re not wearing any pants!”

Jared gaped at him and then his mouth twitched. He doubled over and howled with laughter, his eyes streaming with tears. Then the laughter stopped, but the tears didn’t and Jared slid to the floor beside the bed and wept.

Jensen gently prised the Glock from his unresisting fingers and put it away, before kneeling on the floor beside the biker and resting a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll get him, Jay, I promise.”

Jared made a noise that was somewhere between a sob and a snort. “You know what really gets me Jensen?” he said. “I _knew_. I knew and I did nothing,” he frowned. “I mean I didn’t _know_ , but I knew, you know?”

“I…think so.”

“They always fought, JD and Pellegrino. Pellegrino said that was good. That it kept him honest. That JD was like the cricket on his shoulder,” Jared smiled fondly. “One day, after Chapel, JD and HeyDay stayed behind to talk something over with Pellegrino. The rest of us were out in the common area drinking, playing pool, when the yelling got so loud you could hear it over the music. And then the door banged open—just smashed back against the wall—and JD fucking strode out, yelling: ‘Over my dead body, Mark. Over my dead fucking body.’” Jared shook his head. “I don’t know what they were talking about, but three weeks later JD was killed. And I kept thinking about that day and what JD had yelled out. But then, Pellegrino was so fucking nice to me. And I was a wreck. I spent a week drunk, fucked my way through too many guys to count, totalled my bike. And Pellegrino picked me up, put me back together and said, even though I was young, even though I was the lowest ranked member, he wanted me to be his VP. To take my dad’s place. To be the cricket on his shoulder like JD used to be,” Jared turned to Jensen with tears streaming down his cheeks. “And I let myself believe. Because it was easier.”

“It’s okay,” Jensen said. “You were what? Twenty? You trusted Pellegrino. You should’ve been able to trust him. So, you know, don’t beat yourself up over it.”

Jared snorted and rubbed a hand across his cheeks. “Fuck. Crying like a fuckin’ pussy. Gonna lose my man card.”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “You’re allowed to have emotions, Dude.”

Jared looked pretty dubious about that and Jensen knew exactly where he was coming from, thanks to the many lengthy discussions he’d had with Dr Ferris about learning to express negative emotions in healthy ways. According to Ferris, Jensen flew into a rage whenever he was angry, sad or scared and apparently, that was because anger felt more powerful than sadness or fear. Jensen had thought she was full of shit, but having watched Jared’s responses to being scared or unhappy, he was starting to think she might’ve been onto something.

“We still need hard evidence,” Jared said. “Everything you said makes perfect sense, but it’s circumstantial. If I want to get the Club’s backing on taking The Beast down for this, I need proof.”

 Jensen nodded. “We’ll get it,” he said. “Whatever it takes.”

\--

The next few days were quiet. Jared worked. Jensen played pool down at Happy Gok’s and did a little hustling at some less than salubrious establishments.

The first time Jensen came home with five hundred dollars of hard-hustled money, Jared decided to spend the evening introducing him to his suede flogger. It turned out to be less of a punishment than Jared might’ve intended, because Jensen really fucking liked the sting and the way the flogger managed to be both harsh and sensual. He was so hard by the time they got to the actual fucking that he came the moment Jared slid in deep.

Still, the next time he went out hustling he took Chad with him to watch his back.

Jared bought him art supplies. Sketch pads and Derwents. Several canvasses. A good range of Winsor and Newton oil paints and oil brushes. 

Jensen sketched Jared lying on the sofa with a beer in one hand and Jared was seriously impressed.

“You’re good,” he said. “That actually looks like me. Like, for real.”

Jensen rolled his eyes and lit a cigarette.

“You ever done a custom paint job on a car or a bike?” Jared asked.

Jensen shook his head.

“You should give it a try,” Jared urged. “I’ll find you an old clunker to practice on.”

Jensen conceded that it could be fun and when Jared told him how much money he could make on high end custom design paint jobs, he knew that he’d have to seriously look into it.

On Friday night, Jensen played in Happy Gok’s pool tournament and won again. The whole crew turned up to watch him and even though they weren’t even in soft colors, it was obvious that most people knew who they were. And those who didn’t know who they were still knew _what_ they were and that they were best avoided.

“Gang’s all here, I see,” Steve murmured.

“They’re not a gang,” Jensen said flippantly. “They’re a bunch of motor cycle enthusiasts.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He leaned in close. “You ought to go to Church, confess your sins. Monday, midday, at The Church of the Good Shepherd on North Bedford Drive. The angels will keep an eye out for you.”

Jensen raised an eyebrow. “Hallelujah?”

\--

Jensen set off early, because he wanted to make sure he wasn’t followed.

He pretended that he was heading out on a shopping trip and meandered up and down Rodeo Drive and its surrounding streets using the windows of the various shops he peered into to surreptitiously check for somebody tailing him.

And yes, there he was; a big, leather-clad, tattooed biker, trying to look inconspicuous outside of Bally Shoes. Jensen snorted and tried to imagine the guy wearing $500 pebbled calf-skin loafers. Jensen pursed his lips thoughtfully. He thought he recognized the guy as a club hang-around, hoping to become a prospect. His name was… Jensen bit at his bottom lip… Randy? Or Rowdy?  Something like that. He was such a poor choice for inconspicuous that Jensen knew there had to be another tail as well.

Jensen headed into Gucci for a bit because they had some nice bomber jackets in the window and just because he wasn’t actually here to shop, didn’t mean that he couldn’t buy something cool if he just happened to see it. Right?

By the time he came out Randy (or Rowdy) was in an animated discussion with Bally’s store security, so Jensen took advantage of the situation to sprint over to Hugo Boss.

He had to browse Armani (they had a fitted leather jacket that was going to look _amazing_ on Jared) and Ralph Lauren too, before he finally flushed the other tail—a weasel-y looking, balding man in dark glasses, grey pants and a blue-and-white striped tee-shirt. The guy was as tenacious as a weasel too. Jensen had to meander through Brooks Brothers and Saint Laurent, and then double back and hit Saks Fifth Avenue before he finally managed to lose him.

By the time he made it to the meet-up at Church of the Good Shepherd he was fifteen minutes late. He made the sign of the cross and the moved down the center aisle to the front pew and sat down, head bowed as if in prayer.

Jensen was conscious of someone sitting down beside him and he turned and found himself face-to-face with intense blue eyes, messy dark hair and a finely chiselled jaw.

“Hello, Jensen. You’re late.” Deep and gravelly, the man’s voice sent a shiver up Jensen’s spine.

“I had to shake a tail.”

The man broke into a smile. “Don’t tell me,” he said. “You’re a big fan of dime novel detective stories?”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “So are you one of the ‘angels’ Steve mentioned?”

“I’m Misha,” the man stood up. “Come on. We can talk through here.”

He led them around through a side door and into the priest’s office at the back where a dark haired woman was waiting for them.

“This is Erica,” Misha said.

Erica folded her arms and gave him a withering look.

Misha grimaced. “Okay, I supposed if you want to be all official, this is Special Agent Erica Carroll and I’m Special Agent Misha Collins. We’re with the FBI.”

“Okay,” Jensen said, taking a seat at the desk, opposite Erica.

“And you’re Jensen Ackles,” Misha added.

Jensen stared at him. “Yes. I know that,” he said, as scathingly as he could manage.

Erica smiled.

“Okay then,” Misha clapped his hands. “On to business. Steve Williams says you’re willing to work with us to get Mark Pelligrino, AKA The Beast, put behind bars.”

Jensen nodded. “I won’t tell you anything that could get Jared in trouble, but yeah.”

“ _Should_ Jared be in trouble?” Erica asked softly.

Jensen inclined his head. “Of course not. He’s a prince among men. Never did a bad thing in his life, your honor.”

“And Jared’s your….?” She left a space for him to fill in the gap and when Jensen said nothing she said, “boyfriend?”

“It’s complicated,” Jensen said. “And not really the point.”

Erica conceded the fact with a tilt of her head.

“Tell me about JD,” Jensen said.

Misha looked at him for a moment, cool and assessing, and then began to recite.

“Jeffrey Dean Morgan, AKA JD, AKA John-Boy. Born 22nd April, 1966, died 12th June, 2012, aged 46.  Pre-deceased by his old lady and wife, Mary, who died of cancer.  No children. JD did, however, informally adopt Jared Padalecki, born July 19, 1992, when the boy was fourteen, and God above knows what systemic fuck up allowed that to happen,”

“Hey!” Jensen straightened up and scowled at Misha. “JD was the only--”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Misha interrupted. “He did right by the kid when no one else did. Doesn’t mean the system didn’t fail.”

“Yeah,” Jensen agreed. “It failed Jared big time.”

“And JD wanted to right some wrongs, which is sort of how all this came about,” Misha fixed his big blue eyes on Jensen. “JD was investigating a man by the name of Kurt Fuller, a lawyer who also produces porn with Emily Swallow, the former porn actress, and Fuller’s mistress. The company is called Fuller Swallow Inc and they produce mostly rough stuff, gang bangs and so on, with barely legal actors. Fuller and his wife Julia were Jared’s foster parents for a short while. JD believed Fuller may have…” Misha hesitated, “... behaved, uh, inappropriately with Jared.”

Jensen got his cigarettes out, but before he could do more than slide one out of the packet, there was an outraged squawk from Erica.

“You can’t smoke in here!”

Jensen stuck the cigarette in his mouth. “You gonna arrest me for smoking?” he asked.

Erica glared at him. “This is Father Thomas’s office. You’ll upset him if you smoke in here. Please don’t.”

Jensen sighed and put the cigarette back in the pack. “So JD was after Fuller, and then Pellegrino decided to get into bed with Fuller’s porn company and JD lost his shit.”

Erica nodded. “We then contacted JD and asked him to pretend to be on board with HellSpawn buying into the porn business, because while we have suspected for a long while that Fuller was producing child pornography, we’ve never been able to prove it. We thought that if JD had access to inner-circle knowledge, he could pass it on to us.”

Jensen nodded. “It wasn’t the first time he’d helped the FBI, was it? Pellegrino thought the Dead Reapers were ratting him out seven years ago. But it was JD, wasn’t it?”

Erica and Misha exchanged a look.

“Underage hookers,” Misha said finally. “Pellegrino was turning a blind eye, so JD told us who was running them. We never could tie it back to HellSpawn. We had nothing but the pimp’s word and he got shived in prison, so the whole case died too.”

Maybe Pellegrino hadn’t known that it was JD who sicced the FBI on HellSpawn seven years ago, but there was a good chance he’d had some suspicions. Jensen figured that JD’s sudden turnaround on the whole kiddie porn issue would’ve solidified those suspicions and been the final nail in JD’s coffin.

“The information that Pellegrino channels the Fuller Swallow money through a company called Amara Enterprises was very helpful, Jensen. We’ve got a team of forensic accountants trying to unravel the money trail. But what we need you to do now, is find out where they’re producing the child pornography.”

“Oh, is that all?” Jensen said sarcastically.

“I appreciate that what we’re asking of you is difficult,” Misha said.

“Epic understatement,” Jensen muttered.

“But we believe you can do it. You’re a resourceful man. A con artist. And,” Misha tilted his head. “Rather attractive.”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “Also, I already know Kurt and Emily.”

Misha’s eyebrows shot up. “You do?” He glared at Erica. “Why didn’t we know that?”

Erica frowned. “I, uh, um,”

“It was a long time ago,” Jensen offered. “Kurt used to hang out at this bar where I worked bussing tables when I was eighteen. He kept giving me his card and trying to talk me into filming for him. I kept telling him no.”

“Why?” Misha asked. “As I understand it, you…” he trailed off and looked sheepish.

“Fuck around a lot? Well, yeah. But that’s different.” Jensen frowned. “Once something’s on film it’s there forever. I didn’t want footage of me getting gang banged in _Smoky and the Ass Bandit, Part 6_ to be my enduring legacy.”

“This is great news!” said Erica.

Jensen turned to stare at her and she colored slightly.

“Not the gang bang part,” she clarified, “the fact that you already know Fuller; that he wanted you to work for him. It gives you an in.”

Jensen bit at his bottom lip. “Speaking of fucking around, I may have fucked around with Kurt and Emily a few times. Kurt’s bi, and I’m not really into women, but Emily was fucking mesmerizing. She had a real thing for me too. So yeah, I think I’ll be able to get them to at least talk to me again.”

Misha patted him on the knee. “You go with whichever angle works. Just remember, the sooner we can find out where they’re filming the child pornography, the sooner we can shut it down.”

“Roger, that,” Jensen flicked Misha a salute and then stood, gathered his shopping bags and left. He lit a cigarette on the sidewalk in front of the church and then walked back toward Rodeo Drive, planning his next move.

\--

Jensen learned from Crossroads that Kurt Fuller still liked to hang out at The Snakepit, so he had Squint do some recon and then went around there at six o’clock on Thursday night, because the research suggested that Fuller was likely to be there then.

Jensen got himself a beer and ordered a burger and then found an unoccupied small, round bar table and sat facing the front door. The girl who brought out his burger was a pretty blonde who introduced herself as Michelle, with a Mississippi accent. Jensen gave her a big smile and when she smiled back at him, he told her that he used to work here, ten years ago. That he’d been in the neighborhood and figured he’d drop in, for old times’ sake.

“Omigod,” she said. “That’s so cool. What do you do now?”

“I’m a struggling artist.”

Michelle raised an eyebrow. “You can’t be struggling too much. I know how much those shoes cost.”

“Ah,” Jensen smiled ruefully. “Well sometimes I have friends who buy me nice things. And what about you? I’m guessing you didn’t come to Hollywood to wait tables?”

Michelle sighed and struck a pose. “Nope, I came out here to be an actress,” she tossed her hair. “No luck so far. Anyway, gotta go. Enjoy your burger.”

Jensen finished his burger and his beer and then got his cigarettes out. There were signs all around that read ‘No smoking pursuant to Labor Code section 6404.5’ and Jensen fidgeted for a while and then got up and headed outside to smoke.

He opened the front door to find Kurt Fuller on the other side and forced his face into an expression of surprised delight.

“Kurt! Still drinking here, eh?”

“Dean Winchester,” Kurt clapped him on the upper arm. “I’d heard you were back in town. Or should I say, Jensen?”

Jensen grinned. “Oh you should definitely say Jensen.”

A couple excused themselves to Jensen and he moved to the side so that they could get past him.

“I’m just heading out for a smoke,” he told Kurt. “But it was good bumping into you.”

Jensen stepped outside and walked a little way down from the front door and then lit up. The trick with Kurt was not to appear eager. He needed Kurt to think that he was the one doing the chasing. Jensen lit a second smoke off the butt of the first and smoked it quickly, before heading back inside.

Kurt was up at the bar ordering himself a whiskey—Jameson Irish Whiskey, aged 18 years.

“Ooh. That sounds good,” Jensen said as he sidled up beside him. “I’ll have one of those too.”

Kurt smiled his usual smarmy smile. “Make that two,” he said to the bartender. “Both on me.”

“Where are you sitting, De—Jensen?” Kurt asked when they both had a drink in hand.

The table where Jensen had eaten his burger was now taken. “Well, I was sitting there. I guess that’s what happens when you go outside to smoke. You lose your table.”

Together they found one of the tall bar tables that you had to stand at and as Kurt put his table number down, he huffed that he was going to have to eat his meatloaf standing up.

It was Michelle who brought Kurt his food. She gave him an insincere smile and then looked at Jensen with wide eyes, shaking her head slightly and nodding toward Kurt.

“Have you given any more thought to my offer?” Kurt asked her.

“Nope,” she said. “I’m still not interested in making porno movies for you, Mr Fuller.”

“Pity,” Fuller said, ogling her lecherously.

Michelle rolled her eyes and turned to Jensen. “Has he given you his card yet?”

“Back when I was working here, he gave me about a hundred. But I was smart like you and told him no.”

Kurt scowled at him and then turned to Michelle. “Don’t let Jensen fool you, Michelle. Just because he’s pretty, it doesn’t mean he’s a nice guy. He’s part of a criminal motorcycle gang and he’s done a lot of bad things in his time.”

Jensen snorted and tossed back the rest of his whiskey. “He ain’t exactly wrong,” he looked up at Michelle. “Don’t worry about me, Sweetheart, I don’t need to be saved from ol’ Kurt here.”

Michelle looked at him with narrowed eyes and when she spoke, her tone was scathing. “Right. Because sometimes you make friends with people who buy you nice things.”

She turned around and walked away and Jensen found himself feeling almost hurt that she was so disappointed in him.

“Great,” he said to Kurt. “Now she thinks I’m a hooker.”

Kurt threw his head back and laughed.

“Don’t you laugh,” Jensen said. “She thinks you’re my Sugar Daddy.”

“Ah, Jensen,” Kurt wiped at his eyes. “Once upon a time I would’ve been glad to be. Now, you’re a little too old for me and besides, Moose would have my balls cut off if I touched you.”

Jensen swallowed back bile at the casual way Kurt referred to Jared and conceded the point with a tilt of his head. “He would. Unless it was business, of course,” he added.

Kurt frowned. “What do you mean?”

Jensen leaned in close. “You would’ve heard about what happened back in the day, right? Me skipping town with a briefcase I shouldn’t’ve had?”

Fuller nodded.

“So now I’m back and Jared bought out my debt to the club. Which means _he_ now owes the club. Which means I’m still on the hook, because we’re together.”

“What are you trying to say, Jensen?”

Jensen stared down at a water ring on the table top. He was disgusted by what he was about to say and really hoped that it wouldn’t show on his face.

“You make movies. Which I don’t want to be in. Let me be clear on that. I don’t want my ass and my face plastered all over the internet. But. If you had something a little more niche. Something with a more limited viewership. Something where I might have to perform wearing a mask. Or my face might be pixelated. That, I might be interested in.”

 Fuller’s face was stripped of all emotion. “Might you now?” he said.

Jensen nodded. “I hear the money’s good and I need a lot of money right now.”

“I bet you do,” Fuller murmured. “And what about Jared? What does he have to say about this?”

Jensen shrugged. “I haven’t talked to him yet, obviously, but Jared is pretty pragmatic about this kind of thing”

Jensen looked up to see what Fuller made of that, just in time to catch him with an exultant, gloating expression on his face, and in the moment he knew, without a shadow of doubt, that JD’s suspicions had been correct.

Kurt went and bought them both more whiskey and Jensen snuck outside for another cigarette, which he smoked with trembling hands. God he hoped that he’d get a chance to rip Kurt’s lungs out and stick them up his ass.

Back inside Jensen found both a whiskey and a beer waiting for him. He tossed the whiskey back fast and then sipped at the beer.

“So,” Kurt asked him. “How old were you, your first time?”

The first time someone had stuck their dick up his ass, Jensen had been eighteen. But he’d been exchanging hand jobs and blow jobs with other boys since the age of fourteen. And he figured the lower age would be more popular with Kurt, so that’s what he said.

Fuller looked supremely pleased. “Any boy old enough to know what his dick is for wants to be having sex,” he said.

Jensen threw up in his mouth a little and had to wash it down with a slug of beer.

“Exactly right,” he said. He was pretty sure that when he voiced his agreement, somewhere, an angel died.

“You know what,” Fuller clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m gonna think about it. Give me your number and maybe I’ll give you a call in a few days.”

Jensen told him that he appreciated it and then made himself stay for another few drinks and some idle reminiscing about the old days before he headed home.

When Jensen got back to the apartment he found Jared wearing the leather jacket he’d brought for him. Jensen lit up at the sight.

“So does this mean I’m forgiven?” he asked.

Jared nodded. “You should’ve asked before spending that much money on me, but yeah, it’s a cool jacket.”

Jensen shrugged. “You’re worth it. Don’t worry,” he added when Jared seemed as if he would protest. “You sent a pretty clear message with the flogger. I won’t spend a grand on a jacket for you again without running it past you first.”

Jared drew him in close and squeezed his butt cheeks. “You enjoy the flogger far too much for it to be a punishment.”

Jensen hummed. “Maybe. If I’m forgiven, does that mean you’re going to take the cage off tonight?”

Jared rolled his eyes. “Also not really a punishment, given how much you love it when I lock up your cock.  But yes, I’m going to let you come tonight.”

Jensen took hold of Jared’s hand and began to drag him to the bedroom.

“Need you, Jay,” he said. “I’m feeling gross and slimy after spending so much time with that asswipe Fuller. I need you to fuck me hard. Make me feel every inch of your fat cock.”

Jared scooped Jensen up and threw him over his shoulder and the rest of the evening dissolved in a symphony of ecstasy and pain, as Jensen tried his hardest to forget about Kurt Fuller, the kids he was fucking up for life, and the way Michelle had looked at him like he was a piece of lowlife scum.

\--

Jensen was in the back yard when he got the phone call, trying his hand at painting a custom design onto the un-roadworthy old clunker that Jared had brought home for him. He was starting simple; life-like orange flames on a black background, and so far he was happy with the result.

When his cell phone rang, he thought it would be Jared, calling to make sure that he’d shut the dogs in the house before he started. He switched off the airbrush and peeled off his mask, before pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.

It was Fuller.

Fuller gave him an address and told him to be there in half an hour.

Oh fuck. Jensen shook out a cigarette and lit up.

Would there be kids there? Would they look at him like he was a monster? Would the cavalry arrive before he had to at least fake doing something?

Jensen thought he was going to be sick.

He finished his smoke fast and then went and raided Jared’s bag of burners. He called Misha and gave him the address and the time of the meet. He then texted Jared from his own phone and let him know the details.

He and Jared had angsted long and hard about how to deal with this aspect of their con. They’d ended up deciding that if they wanted to maintain the illusion that Jensen was on the up and up, Jared’s involvement had to be transparent. So Jensen typed, with shaking fingers: _Meeting with Kurt in half an hour at 1036 West Florence Avenue. Wish me luck._

 Just to be extra cautious he broke up the sim card of the burner phone that he’d used to call Misha and then he put it in a plastic bag, picked up all of the dog poop in the yard and put that in the same bag, and then dumped it into the trash can.

And then he switched on his cell phone’s GPS tracking, put the tracking device that Misha had given him inside his shoe, and called a cab.

The address Jensen had been given was in a fairly sketchy area of Inglewood and the cab driver checked a few times that Jensen really wanted to be let out here.

As soon as Jensen walked into the dark, dusty warehouse, his spidey sense began to tingle.

“Jensen Ackles?” said a voice.

“Yeah?” Jensen turned, trying to see who had spoken.

Something smashed into the back of his head and Jensen went down, dark spots dancing in his eyes. He was hauled upright by two strong people and dragged toward a white van. Jensen understood dully that he’d walked right into a trap. That they were going to move him and that by the time Misha and the FBI arrived he would no longer be here.

“He ain’t out yet,” said another voice and there was another smack to the back of his head.

Jensen’s last thought as he lost his grip on consciousness was that at least he had the GPS in his phone and the tracker in his shoe. He wasn’t in too much trouble. The FBI would still be able to find him.

\--

Jensen’s head ached like a bitch. His neck ached too. He was cold. And his mouth was dry and furry. Jensen opened his eyes and saw his naked thighs. He lifted his head and saw empty space and a cement wall.  He tried to stand up, but couldn’t because he was tied to a chair. Jensen’s feet were tied to the front legs of the chair with cord and his hands were tied behind his back. Jensen began to pick, surreptitiously at the knots.

Okay. So. This was not good. Not good at all. Firstly, he was naked, which meant no cell phone, no shoe tracker. And he’d been moved from the original meeting place. Presumably his cell phone and tracker hadn’t been moved from the original meeting place. That meant that Jared and the FBI had no idea where he was and no way of tracking him.

Also, did Jensen mention that he was naked?

In a warehouse that belonged to a noted pornographer.

Jensen swallowed. Fuck. He hoped he wasn’t about to star in a gang band without his consent.

Jensen had goosebumps. And he was shivering because he was cold. That was the only reason. He wasn’t scared. He thought about that for a moment. He actually…kind of _wasn’t_ scared. Instead, he felt his senses sharpen. He could hear the hum of traffic that told him he was near a major road, and the hum and whir of distant power tools. He could smell plaster dust and old paint and he could hear a creak off to his left as a side door was opened and Kurt Fuller, Emily Swallow and a couple of gun-toting goons he didn’t recognize walked in.

Jensen smiled. “Emily. You look as stunning as always.”

Emily returned his smile and then her face became tragic. “I can’t believe you were planning to hurt me,” she said.

“Oh no, Sweetheart,” Jensen said. “Not you. Never you.”

He meant it too. Whatever bad things Emily might have done in the last decade, before that she’d been Kurt’s victim—probably still was in a lot of ways—and Jensen would salvage her from the wreckage if he could.

Kurt harrumphed. “Turning us in to the FBI would hurt Emily pretty badly, don’t you think?”

Jensen widened his eyes. “What the fuck, Kurt? What are you implying?”

Fuller chuckled. “I’m not _implying_ anything. I’m outright _accusing_ you of being a rat.”

Jensen glared. “You can’t be serious!”

“Deadly serious. You had a tracker in your shoe.”

Okay, that looked bad. But Jensen was sure he could spin it. If he could keep Fuller talking, it would buy him some time and right now any time he could buy was a bonus.

“Jared insisted on the tracker,” Jensen told Fuller. “He kind of thinks he owns me and he doesn’t want me running out on him. I have to tell him everywhere I’m going and if the tracker says something different, he comes looking for me. And then I’m in big trouble. Let me reassure you,” Jensen said. “That I have never had any intentions at all of turning you over to the FBI, the ATF, the cops, or anyone else.”

Kurt was right beside him now and he reached out and took hold of Jensen’s chin.

“I wish I could believe you,” he said. “But you always were such a pretty little liar.”

“I ain’t lying,” Jensen lied.

Kurt squatted in front of the chair. He put his hands on Jensen’s knees and then ran them, in a slow, sickening caress, up and down his inner thighs.

“It seems like such a waste to kill you,” Kurt mused. “But Pellegrino wants you dead. He doesn’t think you can be trusted. He thinks you’ve got poor Padalecki wrapped around your little finger.”

Jensen snorted. “You’re kidding? Jared’s definitely on top in our relationship,” he cocked his head. “So if you don’t want to kill me, what do you think you recommend doing with me?”

As if it wasn’t obvious from the obscene caress.

Kurt licked at his lips. “I’d make you my sex slave. Keep you locked away and use you whenever, however, I wanted.”

Behind Kurt, Emily made a little abortive movement and Jensen met her eyes. They were full of sympathy and despair.  

Jensen could hear the approaching sound of a Harley Davidson; possibly two. He wrinkled his nose at Fuller. “You know, as much fun as being your beck-and-call boy sounds, I think I’m gonna have to pass. I remember how tiny your dick is.”

It wasn’t small, not really. Kurt was decently average. “Well,” Jensen added, “it’s tiny in comparison to the Padacock, anyway. Once you’ve had that, you can never go back. You’re ruined for anything less. And you’re definitely _less_ , Kurt. Much less.”

Making fun of a man’s dick when he had you naked, bound, and held at gunpoint was always a solid move.

Kurt stood up abruptly and then backhanded Jensen hard.

Fuck that hurt.

Jensen grinned and spat out blood. The outer roller doors clattered up and open and Pellegrino and Heyerdahl roared into the warehouse on their Harleys.

Jensen waited until they’d switched off their engines and then said, “Well hello there, Mr President, Sir. Seems we’ve got a problem. Your man, Kurt here, kidnapped me.”

“On my orders,” Pellegrino said.

“What?” Jensen pouted. “Why?”

Pellegrino folded his arms and tilted his head. “Well. Because you were planning on ratting us all out to the FBI.”

Jensen manufactured a look of indignant surprise. “I was not! That’s outrageous!”

Pellegrino laughed and shook his head. “So you’re telling me that you honestly wanted to make kiddie porn?”

Jensen sniffed. “Hell no,” he said. “I wanted to lure Kurt somewhere private and kill him. I was going to put his heart in a box and give it to Jared for his birthday.”

Jensen felt every eye in the place settle on him in shock. He grinned. “Jared may have let slip a few things about Kurt. It seemed an appropriate gift. Like, I’d give him my heart metaphorically, by giving him Kurt’s heart literally.”

Fuller squawked something indignant and Pellegrino threw back his head and laughed. HeyDay’s smile was unsettling.

“Oh man,” Pellegrino said. “I’d forgotten what a little psycho you are.”

Pellegrino looked at Jensen thoughtfully and then the side door opened and Misha and Erica walked in with their hands in the air, two goons with guns behind them.

“Look what we found lurking boss. Special Agents Collins and Carroll.”

“Not a rat, eh?” sneered Fuller.

“I’ve never seen them before in my life,” Jensen said. “Maybe they followed Pellegrino here?”

“We’ve had several of Fuller’s men under surveillance,” Misha said helpfully. “We saw them assault Mr Ackles, who we know from our surveillance of Jared Padalecki, and then bundle him into a van. We followed. SWAT is on its way.”

“What a shame you won’t live to see them arrive,” HeyDay said and pointed his Sig Sauer right at Misha’s head.

There was a bang and Jensen’s heart dropped. He waited for Misha to fall, but he didn’t. He patted himself, looking perplexed and then Heyerdahl slumped to the floor.

“What the…?” Pellegrino drew his own weapon and spun around just as Jared and Crossroads walked in, guns trained on Fuller and Pellegrino.

Jared was dressed from head to toe in black leather and he walked into the warehouse as if he owned it. Jensen was incredibly turned on. He had to have some stern words with his cock, because, hello? Naked.

“You okay, Sweetheart?” Jared said, looking across at Jensen.

“Peachy,” Jensen grumbled.

Jared turned his gaze on Fuller. “In case you’re wondering all the guys you had stationed outside are unconscious and tied up,” he turned to Pellegrino. “And in case _you’re_ wondering, Joey and Pitbull have been tied up and shoved in the spare parts cupboard.”

Jared turned back to Jensen. “He had my workmates spying on me. When he got the call from Fuller that they’d got you, he promised Joey and Pitbull they could become prospects if they stopped me from leaving to follow him. And they did try. By the time I got them dealt with, Pellegrino and HeyDay were long gone. So I called Crossroads and Squint. Chad’s minding the shop, in case you were worried,” this last was addressed to Pellegrino.

“So how did you find me?” Jensen asked.

“Oh,” Jared grinned. “I put a tracker on The Beast’s bike when Ruthie told you he was already suspicious of us.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jensen saw Fuller pull a knife; he’d taken advantage of the focus on Padalecki to arm himself.

This was Jensen’s opportunity. He’d already managed to untie his wrists; he’d just been waiting for the right moment to reveal the fact. Now seemed appropriate.

Jensen threw himself at Fuller as he drew the knife back to throw it at Erica. Jensen landed on top of Fuller and knocked him to the ground. Without a flicker of remorse, Jensen snapped his neck. And then he rolled sideways and pulled off the cords that were binding his ankles to the legs of the chair.

“Holy shit,” Jared said as Jensen stood up. “I’m so turned on right now.” He turned to the goons who were standing with their mouths open, their guns still vaguely pointed at Misha and Erica. “Guns down,” he said to the goons. “Hands on your heads. SWAT’ll be here in a minute and you don’t want to get shot.”

The goons complied and Misha and Erica handcuffed them.

“You should take your own advice,” Misha told Jared.

Jared gave his gun to Misha and when Misha pointed it at Pellegrino, Crossroads handed his to Erica.

“Don’t worry,” Jared told Jensen. “It’s a completely clean gun,” and then he frowned. “You’re naked.”

Jensen scowled. “You just noticed? Man, I must be losing my looks.”

“No, baby,” Jared said earnestly. “I noticed. I just had to stop noticing. Pointing guns, trump naked Jensens when it comes to keeping my attention. But only just.”

Jensen pouted, but allowed Jared to pull him into an embrace.

While they were making out SWAT burst in. They consulted with Misha and Erica and then rounded up all the bad guys. Pellegrino was led away shouting that he wouldn’t be alone in his cage for long. That Jared would be sure to join him in there soon and then, Pellegrino would make him his bunk buddy and spoon him all night long.

Jared rolled his eyes and then noticed several of the SWAT team ogling Jensen.

“Somebody get my boyfriend some clothes!” he barked.

Misha came across and gave Jensen his tan trenchcoat.

“Go easy on Emily,” Jensen said to Misha as he shrugged into the coat. “I know she regrets her part in destroying all those poor kid’s souls. And I bet that if you asked her, she’d tell you where they keep the kids. In a lot of ways she’s a victim too.”

He turned to Jared. “So I’m your boyfriend, huh?”

The Acting President of HellSpawn looked at him intently. “Actually, you’re so much more than that.”

Jared kissed him again, gentle but insistent, and Jensen felt high on life. Oh yeah. He could definitely get used to this.


	7. Epilogue

Jensen roared into the parking lot of J2 Motorcycles—Custom Builders and Dealers on his custom painted CVO Street Glide.

He parked, patted his baby happily, and then headed into the far building; the new club rooms of HellSpawn MC.

Katie was at the bar, Nicky was sitting on the sofa painting her nails and Gen was playing pool with the new girl, Danni. Danneel Harris was also his PA and she’d quickly become a good friend.

“Jensen!” she pocketed the black and stood up. “How did it go?”

Jensen put an arm around her and kissed her on the cheek. “Please tell me you’re not hustling Gen again?”

She widened her eyes and endeavoured to look innocent. “Would I do such a thing?”

“Yes,” everybody in the room said, and Danni laughed.

“Okay, fair point. But no. I’m giving her lessons.”

Gen nodded. “I’m getting better. My main problem is that I’m so short.”

Danni whacked Jensen on the arm. “So how did it go?”

Jensen smiled. “Great. We got the commission!”

All the girls squealed in delight and a moment later, Jensen was at the center of an enthusiastic group hug and lots of excited chatter.

“Omigod!” Gen crowed. “I can’t believe we’re doing custom bikes for André Z and his entire entourage!”

A piercing whistle broke through the storm of noise and silenced everyone.

“Uh oh,” Danni said quietly, looking toward the closed Chapel door. “I think somebody’s pissed that he’s not getting your attention.”

Jensen grinned broadly. “He’ll get over it. But I guess I better get in there.”

Jared glared at him when Jensen opened the Chapel door.

“Sorry I’m late,” Jensen said, as he took his customary seat at Jared’s left hand side.

“That’s okay, Sweetheart,” Jared said. “I’ll take it out of your ass later.”

“Ooh,” Jensen faked a shudder. “I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

Mark Sheppard, seated at Jared’s right, said, “So I take it from all the noise out there, that we got the commission?”

“We sure did,” Jensen said proudly.

Crossroads reached out and shook his hand. “Congratulations. Although I still say that as senior salesperson, I should’ve been the one to seal the deal.”

“Too bad for you, they wanted Jensen,” Rachel said.

Crossroads scowled at her.

“It’s just ‘cause I’m so much prettier,” Jensen said. “Besides, you did all the paperwork, so you know it was all watertight. I just had to collect the signature and the deposit and drink bad champagne with a bunch of rappers while looking ruggedly handsome.”

“Were you okay there?” Jared asked and everybody knew exactly what he meant.

André Z’s cocaine habit was staple tabloid fodder.

“Yep,” Jensen said. “There were lines on just about every flat surface, but I resisted the temptation.”

Jared smiled at him, low and hungry.

“Okay,” Ruthie said. “So we’ve finished dealing with all the agenda items. Per the last item we discussed, I’ve made a note in the minutes that Rolly,” she nodded at the man concerned, “is gonnie have a wee word with the lads from M18 to clarify just exactly who runs the arms trade in this town. Is there any other business?”

“In light of our latest commission,” Jared said. “I say we have a party tonight. All those in favor?”

There was a chorus of ‘ayes’ and Jared told Ruthie to get Katie to organize it.

“Now everybody out,” Jared commanded. “I need to have a private chat with Jensen.”

Everybody groaned.

“Okay, Luv,” Ruthie said. “I’ll just leave the minutes here for Jensen to have a wee look at, seeing as he missed most of the meeting. I’ll leave them down this end of the table,” she eyed Jensen sternly. “Try not to get them…messy.”

“Omigod!” Jensen said. “That was one time!”

“Yes, Dearie,” Ruthie said. “But it left me with deep scars.”

Jensen grinned at her wickedly.

After Pellegrino had been sent to prison for the production and distribution of child pornography, Jared had been formally and officially made the President of HellSpawn MC. He’d made Mark Sheppard his VP and then insisted that if Crossroads was going to sit at his right hand side, Jensen was going to sit at his left—because there was literally no one he trusted more.

This had produced something of a quandary for the Club, because technically Jensen’s status was that of an Old Lady. And yes, despite Pellegrino being bi and open to gay members ‘old lady’ was the only accepted designation for the official partner of a biker.

Jensen said he didn’t give a rat’s ass what they called him, but that gender was a pretty stupid, arbitrary attribute to use to determine who should be on the management committee.

Jared’s face had been priceless. “Dude, we’re outlaw bikers not a _management committee_!”

Jensen had shrugged and said that whatever you called it, membership should be based on interest and skillset, not whether someone had an innie or an outie.

Besides, he’d argued, if _he_ was going to be on the committee ( _It’s not a fucking committee, Jensen!_ ) then it set a precedent, and they really should open it up to everyone.

So Jared thought about it and decided that he was going to need all the help he could get. He was twenty-four and gay. His old lady was another guy. His leadership would almost certainly be challenged. HellSpawn’s dominance and territory would be challenged.  He needed the best team he could possibly assemble; people who would be absolutely, unquestioningly loyal. So why not shake things up a little? Challenge the accepted status quo? Isn’t that what HellSpawn was famous for anyway?

Ruthie had been delighted to accept Jared’s invitation to take a more active role in the Club’s management. She was frighteningly competent, utterly ruthless and had been known to terrify hardcore gangsters twice her size.

Rachel had agreed to come on board too. She had a way of cutting through the bullshit and getting to the heart of the matter that Jared had come to find invaluable.

While he was making radical decisions, Jared decided to make Chad a full patch member too. Chad had been his friend for a very long time, and he was nothing if not loyal.  He had also turned out to be a surprisingly good office manager.

And yes, Jared’s leadership had been challenged. Not by anyone from his team; they’d all been loyal. But the presidents of several other charters had felt that with Pellegrino gone, they ought to be in charge of the Mother charter.

 Jared had put them all firmly in their place and sent every one of them packing with their tail between their legs; except for the President of the Miami Charter. He got run out of town by Jensen, who decided that he was a too much of a douchebag, to be worthy of Jared’s attention.

After that, the challenges from within HellSpawn stopped.   

Not so the challenges for control of the city.

Within weeks of Pellegrino’s arrest, HellSpawn were challenged by the Italians, the Russians, the Yakuza and The Mayans MC.

Jensen and Rachel managed to run a very successful con that saw the Italians and the Russians all but destroy each other in California and after that, what few remaining grumbles that Rolly and Yellow Eyes still had about old ladies being treated like members evaporated completely.  

Rolly and Yellow Eyes themselves took care of The Mayans. Their MC rivals had negotiated a deal with The Galindo Cartel to supply cocaine into LA.  Rolly and Yellow Eyes gave the ATF an anonymous tip about the deal, which caused several middle ranking members of the cartel and The Mayans’ President, Vice President and Sergeant-at-arms to be arrested. The cartel severed all ties with what remained of the Mayans immediately.

Jared and Ruthie met with the Yakuza, with a little help from Jim Beaver who, surprisingly, spoke very good Japanese. Ruthie had outdone herself researching the main players and her knowledge of them all was so in-depth that they were convinced she was the Celtic version of a _kyūbi no kitsune_ and too dangerous to cross. Jared, they decided was some sort of _kitsune-tsukai,_ and clearly a man to be reckoned with if Ruthie was in his employ. All Jared had to do was look tall, fierce and dominating. Which was very much his forte. Not only did the Yakuza back down on their attempt to take over HellSpawn territory, they actually agreed to form an alliance with them, which had so far proved mutually beneficial.

With all the challengers taken care of, Jared had turned his attention to non-Club business.

 MorningStar Motors was solely owned by Mark Pellegrino, so Jared and the rest of Pellegrino’s employees had lost their above-board jobs when he was arrested.

Jensen, meanwhile, had started doing custom design paint jobs and had quickly developed a reputation as _the_ guy to go to if you wanted your bike to look like something off of _Pimp my ride_ , but for a reasonable price.

He and Jared had a long conversation one evening over a couple of six packs about what they should do with their futures. They decided to open a shop selling, customizing and maintaining motorcycles and they put all their money into it. They opened J2 Motorcycles—Custom Builders and Dealers six months later. Three months after that they brought super salesman Mark Sheppard on board and pretty soon the whole crew was working for them in one capacity or another.

They really had become one big family.

As everyone moved out of the Chapel, Chad turned to look at Jared and Jensen and shook his head. “They’re totally gonna fuck on the table. I can’t believe the rest of you are cool with that.”

Ruthie smacked the back of his head and then shoved him out the door before closing it behind her.

Jared didn’t speak. He simply rolled his chair back from the table and waited.

Jensen sat still for several beats and then he got up and sat on the table, in front Jared. Jared rolled his chair forward, pushing in between Jensen’s spread legs. He rested his arms on Jensen’s thighs, hands running up and down, and looked up at him.

“You really okay?”

Jensen nodded.

“And you didn’t use?”

Jensen shook his head.

“Did anyone try to hit on you?”

Jensen shook his head again. “Turns out André Z’s brother is gay and André don’t take too kindly to homophobia or people getting stuck on stereotypes. Choosing us to do his bikes…I’m not saying we didn’t get the job on merit, but I do think he was making a point to a few people in the hip hop industry about stereotypes.”

“You happy with how it all went?”

“Yeah,” Jensen nodded.

“Good,” Jared smiled. “Pants off.”

Jensen smirked. “Thank God. Thought you were gonna talk forever.”

Jared slapped his thigh which just made Jensen’s grin even wider.

“You’re gonna have to give me some space, dude.”

Jared wheeled himself backwards, breaking contract with Jensen reluctantly.

Jensen took off his boots, socks, jeans and boxers in a perfunctory way that definitely wasn’t a striptease, but somehow managed to be utterly erotic anyway. Or maybe Jared was just stupidly turned on by everything to do with Jensen.

Jared reached out and pulled Jensen close, palming his ass and his dick. He leaned down and licked around the head of Jensen’s cock and then swallowed him down.

“Fuck!” Jensen’s hands came down heavily on Jared’s shoulders as he struggled to steady himself against the onslaught of Jared’s tongue.

Jensen was close when Jared pulled off and sat back.

“Fucker,” Jensen grumbled, without any real heat.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jared smirked. “Turn around, hands on the table, ass out.”

Jensen did as he was told, a squirmy, tingly feeling pooling in his gut as he responded to Jared’s dominance. “Fuck, I love it when you get bossy,” he said.

Jared’s response was to slap his ass, but then there was a click and a squelch and one long finger was working its way deep inside him. Jensen groaned and spread his legs wider. He pushed back against the intrusion and was promptly rewarded with a second finger. “Fuck, yeah,” he moaned, tilting his hips and riding Jared’s fingers enthusiastically.

A third finger joined the first two and after only a handful of hard thrusts, Jared was slapping lube on his dick and spreading Jensen’s hole wide with his thumbs.

“Fuckin’ look at you,” Jared said wonderingly. “Loose, pink and swollen. All ready to take my cock.”

“You gonna talk about it some more or fuck me?” Jensen said, twisting to glare at Jared over his shoulder.

“Sounds like someone’s angling for a taste of the flogger when we get home,” Jared said as he lined himself up, running his fingers lovingly over the tattoo on Jensen’s back—the one that proclaimed him ‘property of JP’.

“Promises, promises,” Jensen snarked.

And then his eyes rolled back in his head and he groaned, long and loud as Jared slid in deep. “Oh yeah, that’s it. Just like that.”

 Jared fucked him slow and deep and hard, keeping them both on the edge of orgasm for what seemed like an eternity, until Jensen caved and begged him to let them both come. When Jared finally pulsed within him, setting off Jensen’s own orgasm, the pleasure was so intense that it felt to Jensen as if the stars had darkened and then brightened anew.

Good orgasms always made him fuckin’ poetic.

Jared pulled out and Jensen stood for a moment, bent over the table, breathing hard.

It had been nearly two years since Jensen was offered a choice between being shot dead by Pellegrino and agreeing to be Jared’s sexual plaything. He’d never once felt that he’d made the wrong choice. He and Jared were happy. And maybe the story of how they got together wasn’t exactly conventional, but then nothing about them was. They were the power couple who ran the most successful and influential organized crime gang in the state, if not the country.

“Move out of the way,” Jared said. He handed Jensen a wet cloth and then proceeded to wipe Jensen’s come off the board table with another wet cloth.

Jensen laughed. “You’re so scared of Ruthie!”

Jared gave him a haughty look. “I’m just considerate.”

He actually was. Jensen couldn’t really argue with that.

Jared looked at him searchingly. “You look good,” he said. “Content.”

Jensen nodded. “Closed a major deal. Got fucked senseless. Gonna party with my family. Life is good.”

“Yeah,” Jared agreed.

He smiled at Jensen adoringly and Jensen knew two things for certain: He and Jared were truly meant to be; and Jared was thankful every single day that he’d been Jensen’s choice.

_The End._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you've enjoyed and would love to hear if you have!
> 
> A huge thank you also to the mods of the SPN_Meanttobe challenge. It's a lot of fun and I've been wanting to take part for years now! Thanks also to my beta reader 9Tiptoes, and if you haven't already checked out Amber's art and told her how wonderful she is, please go and do so [HERE](http://amberdreams.livejournal.com/415449.html/)


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